


A Long Way from Home

by bpdizaya (ThiefofWords), ThiefofWords



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fantasy, Hero's Journey, Love/Hate, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Original Universe, Other Worlds, Portals to other worlds, Slow Burn, Strength Kink, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiefofWords/pseuds/bpdizaya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiefofWords/pseuds/ThiefofWords
Summary: Ikebukuro is a strange place, and its residents know it -- at least, the residents that pay attention do. It’s such a strange place, in fact, that said residents find it difficult to imagine any place stranger… but a place doesn’t have to be easy to imagine to exist, and when some of those residents find that out the hard way, it’s going to take all of their abilities together just to survive -- let alone find their way home. Luckily, Izaya has some tricks up his sleeve... tricks that evenhedoesn't know about yet.





	1. Prologue (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, guess who's back? (Hint: it's me.) Anyway, I got inspired to start a new fic today -- this time one with magic. Also dragons. I don't know when, or where, or why, but there _will_ be a dragon at some point. So... yeah. That should be fun, lol. Anyway, I can't think of anything else to say here, so... enjoy!

The tall, shadowy figure slinks silently throughout the night, the neon lights of the city doing nothing to pierce the strange, heavy darkness that permeates the air around it. Despite the streets being filled with the raucous laughter of drunken night-owls straggling out of closing bars and clubs, not a single person pays the figure any attention -- in fact, it’s almost as if they can’t see it at all, every glance in its direction sliding past to fall on whoever or whatever happens to be behind it.

The figure eventually turns down a seemingly empty alleyway, blood-red eyes searching for the source of the life-force it senses; it finds it in a pile of dirty rags next to a chained-up dumpster, barely recognizable as the person it is. The figure grows closer, taking in the gaunt, dirty face of the homeless old man crumpled up before it -- it can tell at first glance that the man doesn’t have long in this world, the slight scent of death enticing the figure into taking a deep, appreciative inhale. 

_Yes… yes, this will do nicely._

The old man has no time to scream before the blood starts spilling from his throat, the figure catching the majority of it in a rune-covered skein that looks to be made of human skin. With this, it finally has enough to complete the first ritual -- decades of preparation have gone into this plan, the figure’s long, spindly fingers shaking in excitement as it ties the skein closed and places it in a pocket hidden in its thin, moth-bitten robes. 

_Soon._ It whispers to itself, its voice raspy and foreboding -- it’s more of a feel than a sound, the kind of voice that reminds you of your darkest thoughts and makes you wonder if you even really heard it at all. _Soon, I will be able to return -- and when I do, I will ruin them all._ Its laughter echoes unnaturally throughout the empty alleyway, the figure stepping over the homeless man’s lifeless body before continuing its journey through the dark, urban jungle. 

\------------- 

Celty does not often dream. 

It happens every now and then, usually after a long or particularly stressful day -- and even then, it’s generally the kind of dream that you don’t even really remember having once you wake up. That’s why it’s so strange to her when she wakes and finds the dream still fresh and vivid in her mind, the only thing keeping her from screaming in horror being her lack of a mouth to do so with. It’s only by chance that Shinra happens to wake at the same time -- or so she thinks, until the sight of his pale face causes her magical instincts to immediately kick in. She’s not the only one that’s had this dream tonight. 

_’Are you okay?’_ She asks him, with help from her PDA. 

“I’m not sure… I just had the strangest dream.” 

_’I know. I had it too.’_

It’s a testament to how shaken he is that he doesn’t immediately make some stupid comment about how romantic it is to share a dream with his lover, the atmosphere too heavy and unnerving for him to want to joke. Instead, he looks at her curiously and asks “How do you know? I didn’t even tell you what the dream was about.” 

_’I don’t know how I know, I just do… I think maybe something’s about to happen. Something big…’_

Shinra frowns. He doesn't know why, but somehow… somehow, he knows she's right. “Not just big, I imagine… but bad, too.” He says, a shiver running up his spine. He's never been the type to be afraid of the unknown -- but the dream itself was enough to make him nervous, and knowing that Celty had had it too… well, it wasn't a good sign. 

_’What do we do? If something bad is going to happen, we have to stop it!’_

“Well, first things first, we need more information. I know you’re not the biggest fan of him, but… I think we should contact Orihara-kun.” 

_’...’_

“Unless you can think of anyone else that might know something?” 

If she could sigh, she would have. _’No… no, I don’t.’_

“Then Orihara-kun it is.” Fumbling around for his cellphone, Shinra selects the informant’s number and hits the call button. 

\------------- 

Izaya wakes in a cold sweat, his breath caught in his throat -- he just had the worst dream in his entire life, a dream so terrifying he decides he no longer has any desire to sleep. Even worse, something about the dream keeps nagging at him, keeping him from being able to calm down -- he just has this unshakeable feeling of _wrongness_ , like something bad is about to happen. He drags himself up out of bed and onto his feet, about to leave the room when his cellphone starts to ring; his heart still beating furiously, he checks the caller I.D. “Shinra? What’s he calling so late for?” He frowns, answering the call. “I don’t suppose there’s a good reason you’re calling me this late at night, Shinra?” He asks, trying not to give away just how apprehensive he’s currently feeling… but the attempt proves to be unsuccessful. 

_”You sound a little off, Orihara-kun.”_

“I just woke up.” He states flatly. 

_”...Did you now?”_

“I did indeed, so forgive me if I’m not at my most cordial. Is there something I can help you with, Shinra?” 

_”You say you just woke up -- that doesn’t happen to be because you’ve just had a terrible, terrible nightmare, does it?”_

His eyes widening, he’s still too shaken up to stop himself from asking the other man how he knows that. 

_”Celty and I just woke up, we had it too. You don’t happen to know what it means, do you? Wishful thinking, I imagine, but I have to ask. If anyone would, it’s you.”_

“You’re calling me in the middle of the night over a nightmare, Shinra? And how would you know we’ve had the same one when I haven’t even confirmed if I’ve had one at all?” 

_”It’s not the nightmare, it’s the feeling… the feeling like something very, very bad is about to happen. If you and I had the same dream, we’d have the same feeling… and something tells me we do. Am I wrong?”_

He wants to argue, wants to tell him that yes, he _is_ wrong… but he can’t. For some reason, some strange, inexplicable reason… he knows he’s _right._

_Well, this **is** Ikebukuro… I suppose I shouldn’t write the possibility off immediately._

“Alright. Say it was the same dream, and it is the same feeling -- what are we supposed to do about it? There’s not even enough information to call either a lead.” 

_”Hm… I don’t suppose the alley looked familiar to you at all, did it? I feel like I recognized it but I can’t place it, and you know the streets better than me.”_

He thinks about it for a moment, until he realizes it actually _does_ look familiar. “I… I think… I think that might be Kabukicho, actually...” 

There’s a bit of murmuring as Shinra deliberates with Celty for a few seconds before responding. _”Celty says she doesn’t know Kabukicho that well, but that from what she knows of it, you could be right… the only way to know for sure is to actually go there and check it out for ourselves. If you want to go on ahead, be my guest -- it’ll take us a bit to get there. I wouldn’t suggest it, though.”_

“It was a _dream_ , Shinra… even if there was some meaning behind it, dreams aren’t usually meant to be taken literally.” 

_”Then a shared vision, perhaps? I wonder if anyone else has had the dream, too? And if not, **why** not? Ahh, it’s so **interesting!** I mean, I’m absolutely terrified, but it’s also absolutely fascinating!”_

Izaya rolls his eyes. “I think I’ll go on ahead, after all.” He informs the other man, hanging up the phone before he has a chance to continue. He’s never understood the other man’s obsession with the supernatural -- what kind of human falls in love with a woman with no head? Still, Shinra was his friend, and Izaya _was_ curious… so it wouldn’t hurt to humor him, right? Besides, it’s not like he’s going to find anything, anyway. 

Grabbing his phone and keys from their place next to the door, Izaya pulls on his jacket and heads out of his apartment. 

\------------- 

Shizuo takes one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out on the ground in front of the debtee he currently has cornered, Tom a safe distance away to avoid ending up as collateral. He’s not in the best of moods at the moment, mostly on account of the fact that the aforementioned debtee happens to live in fucking _Shinjuku_ , of all places. He hates Shinjuku… it always smells too much like Izaya. 

Whether by coincidence or by fate, he doesn’t know, but it’s at that point that he notices the tell-tale fur-lined coat flashing in the distance. He’s about to run after him when the man in front of him lunges at his throat with a knife, missing just enough to avoid an artery but not enough to stop blood from dribbling onto his stark white dress shirt. Immediately zeroing in on the panicked debtee, Shizuo narrows his eyes and grabs his wrist before he can make another attempt. “You got blood on my shirt.” He begins, his voice low and threatening. “Do you know how much I _hate_ when people get blood on my clothes? _Huh?!”_

A few seconds and one berserk Shizuo later, the man is unconscious on the ground and Tom is shaking his head with a sigh. “I forget sometimes that you’re not as well-known here in Shinjuku… well, if he’s smart he’ll pay up next time. You wanna go get something to ea-- Shizuo?” The other man is staring off into the distance with an annoyed expression, looking very much like he’s about to take off in that direction -- sure enough, before Tom has a chance to say anything, the blonde breaks into a run. 

“Damn it…” Tom sighs once more and scratches his head, confused for a few seconds before he remembers whose domain this is. “He must have caught sight of him… guess I’ll go find us some food while I wait for him to get back.” He opens up the map app on his phone and searches through the local restaurant list, then starts heading in the direction of the first one that looks decent. 

_Hopefully he won’t take **too** long._


	2. Prologue (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, second chapter finished. I'm sorry if the story is a little rocky at first... it should get better once I get more used to it.
> 
> Anyway, I'm not sure when the next chapter will come out because finals are this week so I'm probably gonna be more than a little stressed. Wish me luck, and enjoy!

When Izaya reaches Kabukicho, he realizes he has no idea _which_ alley is actually the one from his dream -- there were dozens of alleys in the city, and it would take hours to investigate them all. He knows he’s going to have to come up with some sort of system to help narrow it down, but he can’t think of anything off the top of his head.

He hears it then, a strange, echo-like whisper that seems more like a feeling than any sort of actual noise. It pulls at him like a magnet, drawing him towards its source like a moth to a flame… he doesn’t even realize he’s started to follow it until he’s already reached his destination. 

“No… oh, no, no no no no no…” 

All hope of the dream being no more than just that is dashed the moment his gaze falls on the lifeless body of the homeless old man he’d witnessed die in it, his eyes widening at the bloody scene. For all his experience with the shady side of Tokyo, he’s never actually gotten close to a dead body -- or, at least not a dead _human_ body. 

“Damn it… damn it, damn it…” Creeping just as close as he’ll allow himself to, Izaya crouches down to get a better look. If what happened in the dream is exactly the same as what happened in reality, he doubts he’ll find anything of importance; the being in the dream didn’t seem the type to leave clues. Biting back the bile forming in his throat, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

_I should probably let Shinra and his Dullahan know where I am._ He thinks to himself, about to pull out his phone when he hears footsteps behind him. He turns, already working on coming up with a believable excuse in the case that he needs to talk his way out of the situation… only to find himself face-to-face with the _last_ person he wanted to see right now. “Shizu-chan.” 

“What the hell is that?” The other man asks, eyes wide as he stares at the pile of bones and rags on the cold concrete. 

“None of your business.” Izaya snaps, his hackles raising. This is bad, this is very, very bad -- if _anyone’s_ going to jump to conclusions about all this, it’s the beast. “So why don’t you run along back to Ikebukuro? Unless you’re going to try and kill me, in which case I’d appreciate it if you could just get it over with.” 

“You… you…” Shizuo is visibly shaking, his fists clenched as he narrows his eyes threateningly. “You did this, didn’t you?” 

“I may be a great many things, but I’m no murderer… at least not yet, you’ve proven infuriatingly resistant to all my attempts.” 

“You think I’m gonna take your word for it after all you’ve done? A sick fuck like you, this is right up your fucking alley.” 

Choosing not to point out the irony in his word usage, Izaya is about to cut his losses and make a run for it before he hears Shinra’s voice call out. “Ah, Shizuo-kun! I wasn’t expecting to see you here, don’t tell me you had the dream too?” 

Too focused on the man in front of him to even notice there’s someone talking to him, Shizuo steps closer. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.” He growls, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fingers around the flea’s throat and squeeze every last drop of life right out of him. 

“Because there’s more important things to worry about?” Izaya offers, glancing at Shinra. “Just ask him if you don’t believe me.” 

“Yeah, like I’m gonna fall for that… the moment I look, you’re gonna run. I’m not a fucking idiot.” 

“Aren’t you?” 

Shinra clears his throat, finally catching enough of Shizuo’s attention for the blonde to actually notice there’s anyone else there. “As amusing as your fights are, now isn’t the time.” 

“And why the hell isn’t it the time?” Shizuo responds, annoyed. 

“Because Orihara-kun is telling the truth. He didn’t do this.” 

“Then who the hell did?” 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” 

_’We’ll explain everything later.’_ Celty adds, having arrived at the same time as her lover. _’I know you don’t trust Izaya, but can you trust me?’_

Sighing, Shizuo unclenches his fists and takes a pack of American Spirit cigarettes out of his pocket. “Fine.” He surrenders. “But if he pisses me off, I’m killing him.” 

“Deal.” Shinra agrees without hesitation, ignoring the dirty look he gets from Izaya. “Now, we should probably do what we came here to do before somebody gets suspicious and calls the cops. I’m a little surprised nobody has yet, though…” He frowns as he looks over at the dead body. 

“I’m not.” Izaya informs him with a shrug. “People barely notice the homeless when they’re alive, why should it be any different once they’re dead?” 

“I… you may have a point.” Shinra admits, sighing and scratching his head. “I don’t suppose you’ve checked it yet?” 

“The body? No, I was going to let you do that.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a dead body, Orihara-kun?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Haha. Anyway, I suppose I’ll go take a look at it.” Shinra goes over to the body, taking a pair of surgical gloves out of the package he keeps in his jacket pocket and pulling them on. While he’s most accustomed to handling the living, Shinra’s not at all squicked out at the thought of touching a dead body -- especially not one connected to a mysterious, most likely supernatural event. If anything, he’s _excited._ “What do you think it’s planning to do? The creature in the vision. And what do you suppose it _is?_ Some sort of demon?” 

_’You’re way too okay with all this…’_

“Just because I’m curious about something doesn’t mean I’m not bothered by it.” Shinra says, carefully checking the body for any possible clues. “It’s just all very interesting, that’s all.” 

Rather than watch, Celty decides she might as well use the time waiting to give Shizuo a quick run-down. _’We don’t know exactly what’s going on, so I can’t give you a lot of details… currently, all we know is that all three of us had the same dream, along with a terrible feeling that something bad is about to happen…’_ She continues to fill him in while Shinra’s investigating the body, leaving Izaya to try and come up with his own way to keep busy. 

...and that’s when he hears the whispers again. 

They’re quiet at first, almost completely inaudible, but eventually they’re even more powerful than they’d been before and he’s unable to stop himself from once more following after them. Shinra’s the first to notice him leaving, pausing what he’s doing to call after him. “Orihara-kun? Where are you going?” 

Also pausing what they’re doing, Celty and Shizuo look in the direction of Shinra’s gaze just in time to see Izaya disappear around the corner of the alley. “Damn it!” Shizuo growls. “I knew he was up to something!” 

“I don’t know about that.” Shinra says thoughtfully. “I caught a glimpse of his expression, and it was -- well, a little strange.” 

_’Everything about this is a little strange…_

“Fair, fair! I suppose we should go after him -- oh, there goes Shizuo-kun.” The blonde has already taken off. 

_‘Come on. We can catch up on Shooter.’_ She mounts the pitch-black motorbike, Shinra following suit (albeit a bit more slowly.) Going as fast as reasonable through the cramped alleyways, Celty is eventually able to catch up with Shizuo -- but Izaya is nowhere to be seen. 

“Where did he go?” Shinra asks the other man, confused. 

“I… don’t know. I lost his scent.” 

“Well, he’s got to be somewhere, right? Maybe he went inside a building or something?” 

_’If that’s the case, we’ll never find him...’_

“Don’t be so sure -- he does have a cellphone, after all.” Shinra says, taking his out and pulling up Izaya’s number. It rings two, three, four times… and then a fifth, and a sixth, and a seventh, until it goes to voicemail. “Well that’s… worrisome.” He says, frowning. It’s not like Izaya to ignore a phone call from him. He tries again, and again, and again; he’s about to give up when he hears muffled ringing coming from nearby, immediately gesturing to the other two before heading in the direction he thinks the noise might be coming from. When he finally finds it, the first thing he notices isn’t Izaya standing there staring at something with a stupefied expression, but what it is he’s staring _at..._ and what he’s staring at is a literal tear in the fabric of reality, big and bright enough to bathe the entire alleyway in an eerie red light. “Holy _shit...”_ He says in amazement, his jaw dropping. Shinra has witnessed many an awe-inspiring thing in his life, but the sight before him now could only be rivaled by Celty herself. 

“What the _hell_ is that?” Shizuo is just as in shock as he is, having never seen anything even remotely like this. 

“A portal.” Izaya finally speaks, his voice wavering only very slightly. “The result of the first ritual, I’m guessing.” 

_’Where do you think it goes?’_

“Nowhere pleasant, most likely.” Feeling almost afraid to look away from it, Izaya forces himself to and turns to address his associates… only to discover they’re not alone. Staring back at him from behind the others is the most horrifying creature he’s ever seen; both too tall and too thin, the creature stares down at him with blood-red eyes set deep in its skeletal face. There’s an oppressive aura surrounding it, making it hard to breath and filling him with an unignorable sense of dread. 

When Shinra sees Izaya’s eyes widen and his face go pale, he immediately looks behind him expecting to see some sort of demon or monster. What he actually sees, however, is nothing at all -- confused, he turns to ask Celty if she sees anything, only to discover that she too is looking at something behind them. While she may not have a face for Shinra to read, he knows her well enough to tell when she’s scared… and she is _definitely_ scared, her whole body shaking. “Celty, wha--” 

She snaps out of it, whirling and shoving her PDA in his face. _’RUN!’_ She tells him, giving him no time to argue before shoving him in the opposite direction of the terrifying creature. He shouts for the others to do the same, but he doesn’t stop to make sure that they do. Instead, he lets Celty drag him away from the invisible entity… 

...and right into the glowing, ominous portal.


	3. The Other Side of the Looking Glass

Izaya Orihara is not generally the type of person to jump into things without looking first. He’s too cautious, sometimes to the point of paranoia; he weighs his options, selects the one with the highest success rate, then -- and _only_ then -- he implements it. It’s not that he can’t improvise when he needs to (a lack of adaptability is worse than a lack of a plan, after all), but that he simply prefers the sense of satisfaction he gets when a well thought-out plan comes to fruition. He has more control when he plans ahead… if he has to _really_ improvise, it’s because he’s either dealing with Shizuo, or dealing with an emergency… like the presence of a seven-foot-tall (at _least_ ) demon-like creature with a murderous aura powerful enough to make Shizuo’s violent outbursts look like child’s play. Izaya knows instinctively that, 100% without a doubt, this thing can and _will_ kill every single last one of them without even batting an eyelash… which is why he’s already running before Shinra even opens his mouth, the fear of his life being taken by the literal monster behind them overpowering his fear of the unknown that lay on the other side of the portal. The moment he enters, however, his entire vision turns a blinding red and the strange haunting echoes from before grow so loud that it feels like his eardrums are going to explode. He wants to scream, wants to die, wants to do anything to stop the pain -- it’s too much, it feels like it’s going to _kill_ him and it’s _too much_ , he wants it to stop, _needs_ it to stop, needs to--

\--and then the pain is gone, leaving him dizzy and unable to keep from falling to his knees. “Oh, _fuck.”_ He groans, the meager contents of his stomach unloading all over what looks to be a stone floor. Gasping for air, it takes a few seconds for him to recover enough to stand. 

“That looked unpleasant… are you alright?” Shinra asks, his tone more of curiosity than concern. 

“I guess I don’t take well to portals.” He responds, noticing that everyone else seems to be just fine. Ignoring the feeling of embarrassment from involuntarily emptying his stomach in front of his worst fucking enemy (which is particularly difficult when said enemy looks almost gleeful at seeing him suffer), he turns his attention to their surroundings. If appearances are anything to go off of, then they seem to have found themselves in some sort of ancient ruins… though which era they’re from he can’t really tell, because the only light is the red glow from the portal they’d just ran through. “Where are we?” 

“No idea!” Shina exclaims, his voice echoing eerily in the large, empty hall. “But we should probably look for a way out before--” 

The light from the portal glows bright enough to light the entire chamber, Shinra’s jaw dropping when he sees the looming, skeletal figure that comes out of it. “Ah. So that’s why we were running.” He remarks, fear causing his entire body to turn cold. 

_”How **dare** you defile my gateway?”_ The creature booms, the cracks in the walls spreading in response to its overpowering voice. _”I’ll kill you all!”_

Never having been the type to think before he acts, Shizuo lets out an angry growl and charges the furious monster, aiming a punch right at its creepy, sunken face. He doesn’t see the red glowing runes that appear on one of the creature’s giant, skeletal hands before it swats at him like a bug, causing him to fly across the hall hard enough to leave a man-shaped crevice in the wall. 

_Huh? What just happened?_

Still in shock, the only thing that stops him from getting punched in the face by that same glowing red fist is Celty’s shadows yanking him out of the way, earning an annoyed click of the tongue from the demon when he only hits stone instead, the remainder of the wall exploding from the impact. 

_What… the hell?_ His confusion turning into denial into anger, Shizuo lets out a loud yell and charges for the creature again, only to be met with the same result. A low rumbling sound starts to fill the air, both the ceiling above them and the ground beneath them starting to shake. 

_“The destruction of this temple is long overdue… I wonder if you humans have any idea how much power once existed in this place? Power left to accumulate dust by cowardly Elders that didn’t know how to appreciate the gifts they had been given.”_ The creature scoffs. _”In any case, I’m done wasting time on you pathetic creatures. This temple can kill you itself.”_ The creature raises its hand to the glowing red portal, focusing on it while mumbling something under its breath. The portal suddenly begins to shrink, becoming smaller and smaller until it disappears completely, now the only light being the glowing runes on its hands. Satisfied that the interlopers have no way to escape, the creature makes a gesture that causes the glow to spread throughout its entire body… and then it disappears with a bright flash that gives them just enough time to see that he’s gone before they’re left to figure out how to escape an unknown ancient ruin while simultaneously trying to dodge falling stone in total darkness. 

“Shit shit shit, what the hell!” Angry and humiliated from his unexpected defeat, Shizuo wants nothing more than to find that strange fucking creature and rip it into tiny pieces. “I’m gonna kill that thing! I’m gonna find it, and I’m gonna fucking kill it to death! Graaaahhh!” His infuriated shout echoes throughout the already-crumbling building, causing even more of the temple’s ceiling to crash into the ground around them. 

“Damn it you stupid beast, stop screaming! You’ll make it worse!” Fumbling for his phone, Izaya has just unlocked it and opened up the flashlight app when a particularly large piece of ceiling falls right next to him, causing him to accidentally drop his phone. “Shit!” He hisses, trying not to panic. 

_I’m not going to die. I’m going to survive. I’ll find a way out of this. I will._

Drawing as much of her power into her shadows as she can, Celty forms a barrier around them that will hopefully keep them protected long enough to think of a plan. Carefully taking out her PDA, she flashes them the screen. _”I’ve got a barrier up. Not sure how long it will last though… we need to do something!”_

“Ah, my darling Celty is a lifesaver as always! But yes, we really do need to do something. I’m actually a little scared! Ah, Celty, you should hold m-- ow ow ow ow ow!” The woman had grabbed him by the ear, not in the mood to put up with his bullshit. 

_”If you have time to joke you have time to help think of a plan!”_

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to lighten the mood!” 

“What the hell is going on? What the fuck was that guy? What the hell are we supposed to do, huh?” Shizuo’s never been in a situation in which he couldn’t simply punch his way out of it, and he’s finding it hard not to take his frustration out on his friends. “Where the fuck’s the flea, this is his fault! He should fucking fix it!” 

“How the hell is any of this my fault?” Izaya snaps, unable to believe his ears. “I’m not some fucking boogyman you can blame for everything that fucking confuses you!” 

“When weird shit happens you’re always involved somehow! Fix it!” 

“I don’t know how to fix it! I don’t know what’s going on either! I’m not psychic!” 

“Well then what fucking use are you?!” 

“Hey! Can we please not fight when there’s a literal ancient temple trying to bury us alive? Celty can only hold it off for so long!” 

“Shit, fuck. This is so fucking stupid, if I’d have known this would happen I would never have followed you into this damn portal!” 

“Well it was either that or get murdered by… whatever that thing was.” Shinra responds. “It really did look like a demon… though it could be an evil spirit or some other supernatural creature?” 

“Why the fuck does it matter what it is? All I care about is the fact that I’m gonna kill it!” 

“Well, Shizuo-kun, if we can figure out what it is, it’ll make killing it a lot easier.” 

“I’ll just beat it to a pulp! There’ll be no problem if I beat it so bad it ain’t in one piece anymore, right?” 

“Ah, how nice it must be to be so simple-minded!” 

“What the hell did you just say?” 

“Nothing, nothing! Just mumbling to myself!” 

“Sure you were!” 

Izaya has stopped paying attention to them at this point, still trying to figure out what to do. He’d been able to find his phone with the light from Celty’s screen, but the screen had been cracked from the impact -- the damn thing was basically useless now. 

_There’s no telling how long the Dullahan’s going to be able to keep that barrier up… and the more of this place that falls on it, the worse it’s going to be when it finally fails. I can’t just keep sitting here, but I don’t even know where I am, let alone how to find my way out. Shit… what do I do?_

That’s about the time he hears the echoes again, silent at first but growing louder and louder with each passing second. His eyes widening, he stands up and stares into the darkness… if he squints, he can almost make out a faint red glow. 

“Orihara-kun?” Shinra raises an eyebrow, just barely able to see the other man’s outline in the light from his lover’s PDA. “What is it?” 

“I…” Izaya’s head is starting to hurt again, the echoes continuing to grow in volume. “Can’t…. think…” He manages to say, gritting his teeth. The voices are all he can hear now, overpowering the voices of his friend and his enemy both -- it’s only a matter of time before the throbbing, pounding ache in his mind has him on his knees once more, heaving as the agony becomes so overwhelming that he can barely breathe, let alone move. He doesn’t hear the other two men yelling, or feel a strong hand wrap around his arm and pull him off the ground. He doesn’t see the portal in front of them, or the frantic look on the beast’s face. All he sees, hears, _feels_ is red, screaming whispers, and _pain_ , blurring together violently until it all becomes too much and he suddenly ceases to see, hear, or feel anything at all.


	4. The Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fyi, I'm switching Celty's speech to the bracket style i use in my other fics. the italics just weren't doing it for me. anyway, please enjoy!

When Izaya’s eyes next open, the first thing he notices is the sky.

He’s never seen anything like it; it’s such a vibrant shade of violet that he’d think it was photoshopped had he been seeing it in a photograph and not with his own two eyes, and the moon is at least twice the size of their own… which, paired with the large number of glittering stars, gives him more than enough light to get a good look at his surroundings. 

He pushes himself into a sitting position and surveys the area. He seems to be in a small forest clearing, a smoldering campfire and a few pitch-black sleeping bags suggesting that it had been turned into a temporary campsite -- there’s also an identical sleeping bag underneath him, which would explain why he’s only _slightly_ sore from having been laying on the ground. 

“Oh, hey. You’re awake.” A familiar voice says. His body immediately tensing, Izaya turns to face the source of it. 

“Disappointed, Shizu-chan?” He asks, forcing a smile onto his face. The thought of being alone with the beast makes him incredibly nervous for a variety of reasons, especially considering the fact that he has no idea where he is and is therefore not particularly comfortable with the idea of having to make a run for it. 

“You have no idea.” The other man remarks grumpily, going over to the fire so he can stoke it. 

“Where’s Shinra?” 

“Him and Celty went to find food. They should be back soon.” 

“How long have I been asleep?” 

“Do I look like I wanna answer your questions, flea?” Shizuo snaps, annoyed. “I just said Shinra should be back soon, so why don’t you shut the fuck up and wait for him instead of bothering me?” 

“I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t kill me in my sleep.” Izaya remarks dryly. 

“Yeah, well, I wanted to. Only reason I didn’t is ‘cause Shinra asked me not to.” 

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank him for that later.” 

“Whatever.” The blonde finishes messing with the fire and flops down on one of the other sleeping bags, laying back and lacing his fingers beneath his head. 

Izaya is in the middle of contemplating whether he should leave Shizuo alone or go out of his way to annoy him when he realizes how full his bladder is. “Damn it…” He mutters, glancing at the other man before moving his attention to the dense trees surrounding their campsite. 

_It should be fine if I don’t go too far, right?_

He’s about to step out of the clearing when Shizuo notices what he’s doing. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks, sitting back up. 

“None of your business, Shizu-chan. Go back to your nap.” 

“Nope, nu-uh.” The blonde gets to his feet. “Shinra told me to keep an eye on you, so there’s no fucking way I’m gonna let you wander off on your own.” 

“I’m not even going to go that far, you stupid beast!” Izaya replies, now just as annoyed as Shizuo. 

“Don’t care. I don’t want to get yelled at just cuz you decided you wanted to go off on your own.” 

“Damn it, Shizu-chan… I need to pee, okay?” He admits, hating how embarrassed he feels over something so trivial. 

The blonde appears to mull over his words before sighing and nodding. “Yeah, I guess you probably would, huh? Fine. You can go, but you better stay close.” 

“And _you_ better not peek.” Izaya retorts. 

“Like I’d even fucking want to!” Shizuo growls, his face turning red. Izaya blames it on his temper and walks away, going just far enough that he can still see the light from the campfire before unzipping his pants and getting down to business. He’s never been very comfortable peeing in public places (it leaves him feeling vulnerable, and he _hates_ feeling vulnerable), so it takes him a little longer than he’d like -- by the time he returns to the campfire, the other two have already returned. 

“Ah, you’ve returned!” Shinra chirps, seeming far too happy for someone stranded in the middle of who-knows-where. “Feel better now that you’ve emptied your bladder?” 

Ignoring his friend’s question, Izaya sits back down on his sleeping bag. “How long was I asleep for? Shizu-chan refused to tell me.” 

“A little over a day. You really don’t handle portals well, do you?” 

“Apparently not.” He responds. It’s obvious to him now that he’s the only one that heard those strange whispers -- he doesn’t know why, or even what they are, only that he would be very, very happy if he never had to hear them again… and that it’s probably best if he keeps their existence to himself. “I don’t suppose you know where we are?” 

“Unfortunately, no. We’ve tried to do some reconnaissance, but all we’ve been able to find are more trees. Wherever this forest is, it must be humongous.” 

“Has anyone tried looking from a higher vantage point?” 

[I did, but all I could see were trees and sky. It’s almost as if the forest goes on forever…] 

_That’s disconcerting…_

“While I believe that is what you saw, it wouldn’t hurt to have somebody else take a look, would it? It’s possible you missed something.” 

[...I suppose so.] Celty responds. She knows he’s right, and that it’s not impossible that something managed to escape her notice… but for some reason, hearing the informant say that actually makes her feel a little miffed. 

“Oh, that’s right! Shizu-chan said you guys went to look for food. Did you manage to find anything?” 

Shinra answers by holding up a dead rabbit. “Unfortunately, this was all we could find. We’re going to try again when it’s light out, but for now this is all we’ve got. Hey, Celty, can you make me a knife out of your shadows? I need to skin this before we can cook it.” 

Turning his attention away from the doctor and his Dullahan, Izaya lays back and stares up at the ethereally beautiful nighttime sky. He’s never been a huge nature buff (he prefers the city life, always has and always will), but even he can’t help but be humbled by the sight of something so cosmically beautiful. “The sky… it’s amazing, isn’t it?” He marvels out loud. 

“For once, I actually agree with you on something.” Shizuo says. 

“And now it’s ruined. Thanks a lot, Shizu-chan.” 

“Shut the hell up, you piece of shit flea! Damn it, I liked you better when you were unconscious.” The blonde grumps, now incredibly irritated. 

“Oh, boo-hoo, Shizu-chan.” 

“I really fucking hate you, you know?” Shizuo growls, glaring daggers at the smaller man. 

“The feeling’s mutual.” Izaya sneers. For a while, the two men simply stare at each other, both too stubborn to be the first to avert their gaze -- and then a more-than-slightly charred rabbit is shoved in-between them, Shinra clearing his throat to get his friends’ attention. 

“Now really isn’t the time to be fighting, you do realize that, right? We are in the middle of a seemingly endless forest, which we got to by running into a portal after being threatened by -- well, I don’t know what that creature was, but anything that can send _Shizuo-kun_ flying is something that needs to be taken seriously. Do you understand what I’m trying to say right now? We need to _cooperate.”_

“...” 

“...” 

“Can I take your silence to mean that the two of you are in agreement?” 

“...” 

“...” 

“I’m just going to go ahead and assume that’s a yes. Now, how are we going to divide this up?” He asks, looking at the over-cooked meat thoughtfully. 

“Are you absolutely certain there’s nothing else to eat?” Izaya asks, not particularly attracted to the thought of eating a burnt bunny rabbit for dinner. 

“I checked my pockets, but all I could find was a granola bar -- which I’m afraid I ate already.” 

“Damn.” His hunger beating out his pride, Izaya lets out a sigh. “I guess, give me… I don’t know, a leg? I’ll try a leg.” 

“Same, I guess…” 

Shinra distributes the meat, and the night falls silent while the three men eat. It’s a strange sort of peace, tense yet not particularly unpleasant -- unfortunately, the silence doesn’t last forever. 

_Crack._

All four of them immediately freeze, the sound coming from outside the clearing. Narrowing his eyes, Shizuo gets to his feet and stares into the darkness as if daring something to come out of it… and something does, a large black shape barrelling into the blonde hard enough to knock him into the trees. 

“What the hell?” Izaya jumps up and away from the shape and Shizuo, who has somehow managed to get said shape into a headlock. “Is that a _werewolf?”_

The creature currently struggling in Shizuo’s arms is just as big as the one that tried to kill them in those ruins, its sharp, jagged teeth longer than Izaya’s pointer finger. Snarling as if rabid, it scratches at Shizuo’s arms with wicked-looking claws, shredding his shirt sleeves to pieces. Unfortunately for the werewolf (if that even is what is is), that just pisses Shizuo off more. Letting out an angry roar, he swings the creature around a few times before launching it into the sky, the beast disappearing into the night. 

“Jesus…” Izaya mutters. 

_Shizu-chan really is scary, isn’t he?_

His heart still pounding in his chest, the informant pretends it’s just the adrenaline making him feel so warm.


	5. The King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends. Sorry this took so long. Hope you enjoy.

“And _that_ is why I suggest a higher tax on alchemical reagents for independent contractors. If they don’t want to support this kingdom with their skills, they can support it with their coffers.” A pale, spindly, well-dressed man states matter-of-factly. “They can consider it payment for us not turning them in to the Inquisition for unsanctioned magical practice.”

“We’ve been over this, Vykus.” A deep, smooth voice responds. The man it belongs to is strikingly handsome, with dark brown skin and brilliant green eyes; the robes he is wearing are a deep, rich emerald, and the crown sitting atop his black braids is made of the same gleaming, silvery-purple metal as the throne he’s currently seated on.“Until the High Inquisitor declares otherwise, alchemical regulations are at the discretion of each individual kingdom -- and as I have said many, many, _many_ times before, I am _not_ going to punish innocent people simply because they know how to make a healing salve out of lizard tails and dandelions.” 

“And what happens when they’re no longer satisfied with making simple salves? What happens when they decide they want to make poisons instead? Or perhaps explosives? Alchemists are still magic-users Sire, and we all know just how dangerous magic users can be. They need to be --” 

“They _need_ to be treated with the same basic respect, dignity, and trust that I afford the rest of my subjects, Chancellor Vykus. Now, unless you have anything _new_ to discuss--” 

“MAJESTY! YOUR MAJESTY!” The door to the throne room bursts open, an obviously frazzled courier taking a moment to catch his breath before running up to the two surprised men. “I apologize for the intrusion, but Elder Tycho says he needs to speak with you at once. He says it’s urgent!” 

“Have more respect for your King, _boy.”_ Vykus snarls at the young courier. 

“Have more respect for my people, _Chancellor.”_ The King warns, before turning back to the nervous courier. “What is your name, young man?” 

“K-Kip, Your Majesty.” 

“Nice to meet you, Kip. I’m Samuel, though I assume you already know that. Where can I find the Elder?” 

“In the West Tower, Sire.” 

The King and the Chancellor exchange a look. “Thank you, Kip. Go tell him we will be there shortly.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The boy bows and runs off, leaving the two adults to start making their way after him. 

“It’s another false alarm, you know. It’s _always_ a false alarm.” 

“And the one time I don’t check will be the one time it isn’t.” Samuel replies, slowing down when he realizes that the Chancellor is having trouble keeping up with him. 

“Or it will be just like every other time. I’m telling you, Sire, that mage is... unstable.” 

“You say that about every mage, Vykus.” 

“Because every mage _is_ unstable, Your Majesty! That’s what magic does, that’s why the registry exists--” 

“The _registry_ exists because people like you are afraid of anything you can’t understand or control. Now, before you succeed in legitimately making me angry, I suggest you drop the subject.” Samuel says sternly. 

Wisely, the Chancellor bites his tongue, and the walk continues on in silence until they reach the tower steps. “Damn these stairs.” Vykus mutters as he slowly ascends. 

“Do you need me to carry you, Chancellor?” The king asks teasingly. 

“Thank you for the kind offer, Your Majesty, but I think I can manage.” The older man replies. “Why don't you go on ahead? I'll meet you there.” 

“Are you certain? I wouldn't want you accidentally throwing out your hip on the way up.” 

“Your concern is touching.” Vykus retorts with a roll of his eyes. The king chuckles and claps him lightly on the back before continuing his journey upward, the steps twisting and turning around and around and around until he reaches the landing at the very top. He hesitates before pushing open the heavy, ornate wooden door and stepping through it. 

“Your Majesty, thank the gods you've come.” Despite his title, the Elder looks not a second older than forty, only a few silvery strands standing out from the rest of his sandy blonde hair. 

“Yes, well, it _is_ my duty, after all.” Samuel responds. “What have you got for me?” 

“A pair of magical anomalies. One in the Cursed Forest--” 

“Please tell me you're joking...” 

“--and the other in the Northern Mountains.” 

“...I see.” Neither of the two places are known for being forgiving, but Samuel would rather spend an entire decade in the Cursed Forest than a single _hour_ in the Northern Mountains. “Do you have any idea who or what they might be?” 

“Nothing good, Sire.” Tycho responds solemnly. 

“You don’t think... it’s _him_ , do you?” Samuel asks, hoping with all his heart that the mage will say otherwise. Unfortunately for him, luck does not seem to be on his side. 

“It’s a distinct possibility, Sire.” 

“And I suppose there’s only one way to find out, is there?” 

“Yes, Sire… I’m sorry, Sire.” 

“It’s not your fault.” The monarch sighs. “It’s long overdue, after all.” 

“I could be wrong, of course. Just because the magical signature is strong does not mean that it necessarily has anything to do with The Prophecies--” 

“But if it does, the Champion’s Staff should be active, yes?” 

“Yes, but--” 

“Then the quickest way to figure out if this has anything to do with The Prophecies is to check the Staff. And considering I’m the only person on this planet that has the ability to do so…” 

“Then you’re the only person able to confirm if this has anything to do with The Prophecies or not.” 

“Exactly. So I shall go do that--” 

_”Sire.”_

“Yes, Elder Tycho?” 

The mage looks his king in the eye, his expression more serious than Samuel has ever seen it. “Do not let your _Chancellor_ blind you to the truth, Your Majesty. _He_ is coming… whether you’re prepared for him or not.” 

“Thank you, Elder, but I believe that everything will be fine.” Samuel replies with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I will let you know what I find in the Temple.” 

“Sire--” 

_”Elder._ Everything will be _fine.”_ The king assures his acquaintance, not at all worried. This is not the first time the paranoid mage has cried wolf -- and Samuel is sure that it won’t be the last. “I will let you know what I find as soon as I find it.” 

“Of course, Sire. Thank you, Sire.” Tycho responds, watching as the tired monarch bids him adieu and heads back down the tower stairs. He can only hope that he’s right… 

...otherwise, things are about to get very, very, _very_ bad.


	6. The Cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Starting to get into the feel of this story, I think... hope you continue to read and enjoy!

“I’m sorry, but I… I simply can’t continue on like this. I’m afraid you must leave me behind... I’ll only slow you down, otherwise...”

“We’ve only been walking for an hour, Shinra.” Izaya informs the exhausted doctor, raising an eyebrow. 

“I can’t help that I’m out of shape! I’m a doctor, not an athlete.” 

“I’m not an athlete either, but you don’t see me complaining.” 

“You do parkour!” 

“And?” 

Shinra lets out an exasperated groan. “Celty… my love, my goddess...” 

[I am not carrying you.] 

“Then I suppose this is goodbye. Please, could you at least let me hold you one last ti -- woah, there!” He yelps in surprise when Shizuo suddenly picks him up and sets him on his shoulders. “Oh. Well, I suppose that solves that, then...” 

“How many miles do you think this forest stretches out? Hundreds? Thousands?” Izaya questions aloud. That morning he had climbed to the top of one of the taller trees, but what he saw only confirmed what the Dullahan had already said: there was no end in sight. 

“Maybe it was just the perspective?” Shinra offers hopefully. “Like some sort of optical illusion, with it only _appearing_ to be as large as it is?” 

[No, I don’t think that’s it.] 

“Nor do I, unfortunately.” 

“Well, I can hope, can’t I?” 

“That is always an option, yes… but do be prepared for disappointment.” 

[Speaking of disappointment… my phone is at 4%...] 

“Oh, no! Seriously?” Shinra asks. 

[Seriously. I brought a charger, but… I don’t see us finding a power outlet anytime soon, so it’s pretty much useless.] 

“Would a solar-powered universal charger work?” Izaya asks. With the amount of burner phones he goes through on a monthly basis, he’s always felt it best to have a charger on hand that’s compatible with all of them; this particular model is one of the more expensive ones, with the ability to be charged either by the sun or a USB cord. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought to bring any of his back-up phones with him (he hadn’t expected to be gone for very long, after all), so to him it’s as useless as Celty’s wall charger. “My phone broke in the temple, so I don’t need it at the moment -- here, give it a try.” 

Celty hesitates before taking the offered charger, the smile on the informant’s face more unsettling than it is reassuring. She knows she’s probably just paranoid, but accepting _anything_ from Izaya makes her uncomfortable -- for all she knows, he might try to use this against her in the future. Still, she would like to continue being able to communicate with everyone, so she pushes her reservations to the back of her mind and accepts it anyway. [Thanks.] 

“It’s no problem! Like I said, I don’t need it.” 

“So how much longer do you guys think we’ll need to walk before we reach some form of civilization?” Shinra asks from his perch on top of Shizuo’s shoulders. 

“Hopefully soon, because I’m fucking starving.” Shizuo replies. As if to prove his point, his stomach growls loudly. 

“I think we all are, Shizu-chan. Well, almost all of us.” Izaya winks at Celty, who suppresses the urge to shudder. 

_Of all the people to be stranded with…_ The Dullahan has never been a big fan of the smug information broker; in fact, she generally prefers to spend as little time around him as possible. _I really hope we find our way out of this place soon._

Suddenly Shizuo stops in his tracks, sniffing at the air in a manner that reminds Izaya of a dog that’s caught a whiff of meat roasting nearby. “You smell that?” He asks. 

“Smell what?” Shinra asks. 

“Food.” The blonde responds, his mouth starting to water. 

Picking up his pace, Shizuo pushes his way through the trees in the direction the scent is coming from, momentarily forgetting that he has someone on his shoulders until the doctor lets out a panicked “Careful!” after almost getting whacked in the face by a tree branch. 

“Sorry.” Instead of slowing down, he sets Shinra back on the ground before continuing his way towards the scent, leaving a convenient path in his wake for the others to follow behind. When they reach him again, they find him staring at a cozy-looking cottage sitting in the middle of a small clearing. 

“Oh thank goodness.” Shinra breathes. The smell of beef, vegetables, and spices permeates the air surrounding the little cottage, the hope of a warm meal spurring him into moving towards the front door. 

Shizuo follows him, his fist raised to knock when the door opens and a muscular man in his early-to-mid-thirties steps out, freezing when he sees the two men standing on his doorstep. His eyes widening and his face going pale, he immediately tries to close the door on them -- but, to no one’s surprise but his, all it takes to stop it is a single one of Shizuo’s fingers. 

“Oi, what the hell? That wasn’t very--” 

“I’m sorry!” The man suddenly drops to his knees. “Please, I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me!” His accent isn’t familiar to any of them, almost sounding Scottish but not nearly enough for them to identify it as such. 

Had this still been Ikebukuro, Izaya would have blamed his response on the beast’s reputation -- but this _isn’t_ Ikebukuro, so there’s absolutely no reason that this man should recognize the infamous “bartender”... unless, he realizes, this man happens to be the one living being (other than that unfortunate rabbit) that they’ve interacted with since leaving the portal. 

“Huh? What are you talking about, why the fuck would I hurt you?” 

“I _think_ , Shizu-chan, that this man might be the one who attacked you last night.” Izaya says, closing the gap between him and the three other men. 

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it!” The stranger echoes. “I never intended to hurt anyone, I swear to you! Nobody's supposed to come here, tis the entire reason I moved out here in the first place!” 

“Look, I don’t give a _shit_ about why you live here or if you’re the thing that attacked me last night, all I care about is getting some fucking food in my belly.” Shizuo informs him. “So if you can make that happen, I’d be really fucking grateful.” 

“Oh! Food, yes! I can do that!” The man scrambles to his feet and back into his house, gesturing for the rest to follow him. “I’ve got stew on the fire but it’ll be a bit before it’s ready -- think I might have some bread n’ cheese down in the cellar, if you’d like something to tide you over?” 

“I don’t suppose you have anything to drink? Some water, perhaps?” Izaya asks. He can’t even _remember_ the last time he felt this thirsty. 

“Aye, I can bring you some water. Think I have some mead, too, if I’m recallin’ correctly -- I don’t have much in the way of furniture, but, uh… take a seat wherever you like.” Shooting his strange visitors a wary glance, the confused man disappears down a trap-door. 

“Well, he seems nice.” Izaya comments. 

[He’s not really the one who attacked us last night, is he?] 

“Can you think of any other reason why the sight of our resident strong-man would make him act like that?” 

[...No, not really.] 

“Do you suppose it’s some form of lycanthropy?” Shinra asks, his eyes shining with curiosity. 

“It’s the simplest explanation.” Izaya responds. “Either that or it’s some sort of curse… or perhaps a case of demonic possession?” 

“Hmm…” Shinra thinks for a moment. “Perhaps he’s just a shape-shifter?” 

“Maybe, but if we consider sensitivity to moon phases as a symptom of lycanthropy--” 

“Oh, that’s right! He did attack us at night, didn’t he? And with a moon as big as the one in this world, I imagine it has a more powerful pull on--” 

“Could you two shut the fuck up?” Shizuo snaps. “It’s none of your business what the hell he is!” 

“Aw, how sweet -- the monster is defending one of its own.” Izaya taunts, sneering. 

“I swear on my life, I am going to kill you--” 

“Sorry that took so long, my shirt got stuck on a n...” Their host has just reopened the trap door and poked his head out when he sees the commotion and hesitates, unsure if it’s safe to climb up or if he’s better off waiting it out down below. 

The promise of food overriding his anger, Shizuo gives Izaya a warning glare before going over to the anxious man and helping him (and therefore the food) back up. A few minutes later, the cheese and bread is laid out on the table, along with a bucket of water and a bottle filled with a dark, amber liquid. “I, uh… don’t suppose you’d all be willin’ to tell me your names?” Their host asks. 

“Ah, yes. We did forget to introduce ourselves, didn’t we?” Izaya responds, smiling at him. “I’m Izaya, and this is my friend Shinra and his... partner, Celty. The creature that flung you into the sky last night--” 

_”Flea…”_ Shizuo narrows his eyes. 

“--is Shizu-chan. He’s not very smart, so I wouldn’t--” He dodges a swat from the irritated blonde. “--expect much in the way of intelligent conversation.” 

“My _name_ is _Shizuo._ Shi-zu-o. _Not_ that stupid fucking nickname of yours!” 

“Anyway, now that you know our names, care to tell us yours?” Izaya asks, blatantly ignoring Shizuo’s correction. 

“...Brannon. Me name is Brannon.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brannon.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, too…” 

“Yeah, we’ll see how long _that_ lasts.” Shizuo snorts. 

Grabbing a mug from one of his kitchen cupboards, Brannon pours himself some of the mead and takes a long, deep swig. If there’s one thing he trusts, it’s his instincts… 

...and his instincts are telling him that these people are _trouble._


	7. It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicide mention

“There’s... no doubt about it, is there, Sire?”

“No, Vykus. I’m afraid not.” 

The Chancellor lets out a heavy sigh. Both he and his King are currently standing in the Sacred Vaults that lay beneath the palace, staring at a brightly glowing staff made of the same silvery-purple metal as Samuel’s crown and throne. The staff, however, is not important due to being a symbol of royalty; it is important because it had once belonged to the most famous of Samuel Verdantis’s ancestors, a powerful, honorable sorceress that had been the only person powerful enough at the time to even _temporarily_ end the reign of the man most commonly referred to as, ‘The Dark One.’ 

The Dark One himself had, in life, been the son of King Vladiimus Aurelias the VI, a former Emperor-King of the Northern Continents. Vladiimus had been rumored to have been a dark mage, but everyone who could have done anything about it had been either too scared or too corrupt to actually be willing to; there were stories that the first High Inquisitor once travelled to the North in order to investigate these rumors, but if he did, nothing ever came of it. 

When his first wife, Lucia Aurelias, had become pregnant, Vladiimus had been ecstatic. He became even _more_ ecstatic when he discovered his wife was pregnant with twin baby boys -- not only did he have _one_ potential heir, he had _two!_ Unfortunately, when Lucia finally gave birth, only one of the two babies was actually successfully delivered. The other one, they were told by the royal midwife, had been absorbed by his brother in the womb. 

This by itself was not unusual -- in those days, twins rarely if ever both survived, and it made sense that the one that did would use the leftover nutrients from the one that didn’t to help ensure its own continued existence. One hour later, however, Lucia Aurelias herself would die from complications… and the very next week, the midwife that had delivered her only surviving child would commit suicide by jumping from the eastern battlements. That had been all it took for the rumor to pop up that Vladiimus’s son (who he had named Lucius Aurelias in memory of his mother) was cursed; some rumors even went so far as to claim that he was actually an avatar of evil, born to spread the will of the Dark Gods. Vladiimus himself had, of course, dismissed the rumors as mere hearsay, but that didn’t stop either of them from spreading… and they never _stopped_ spreading, every single tragedy that happened in the young prince’s life only feeding the whispers. Maids, governesses, entertainers, even visiting royalty had been known to go missing after a stay at Castle Aurelias; at first everyone assumed it had been the King himself behind these disappearances, until a servant found _his_ lifeless body hidden under a pile of hay in one of the lesser-used stables. 

Having been the only heir, Lucius had ascended to the throne before he’d even been old enough to marry. He had quickly become notorious for cruelty, wielding fear and violence as his ultimate weapons; unfortunately, his magical prowess had been so great that for twenty years, anyone who tried to stop him would be captured and then publicly executed to prevent future attempts. Many kings, princes, and knights travelled to the Northern Kingdom in an attempt to stop him, but none succeeded -- until Gabrella Verdantis. 

Gabrella had been born the same year Lucius had taken the throne. She was the daughter of the King of the Southern Kingdom, as well as one of the most powerful mages the world had ever seen… despite all attempts to keep her from learning any of the magical arts, due to the fact that (at the time) she was the only heir to the Verdantis throne. She had been a determined girl (thank the gods), continuing her arcane education in secret; which was a very, very, very, very, very, very, _very_ good thing, because when Emperor-King Lucius Aurelias of the North eventually decided to attack the South in an attempt to take it under his control, it was her magic that would ultimately stop him. 

There are many different stories of how that final fight went down. Some say she called the spirits of her ancestors to fight at her side, while others claim that she used power gifted to her by the gods… what all the stories agree on, however, is that the weapon she used to banish Lucius from her (and therefore her people’s) world was a powerful magic staff. 

Samuel had, of course, grown up with stories of his ancestor’s accomplishments. She had been a hero, a light in what everyone at the time believed would be a never-ending darkness -- but she had sacrificed herself to send the Dark One away, and the Seers at the time fully believed that Lucius _would_ return one day, ready to take his revenge on all that had opposed him. When that happened, they claimed, Gabrella’s staff -- now most commonly known as the Champion’s Staff -- would glow. 

It was that exact staff that Samuel Verdantis, Gabrella’s current only living descendent, happens to be staring at. 

“This is impossible.” Chancellor Vykus states, more trying to convince himself than anyone else. “The Dark One’s return is a myth, the staff must just be reacting to some nearby magical resonance or... something.” 

“We both know that’s not how this works, Vykus.” Samuel responds. 

“So what now, then? What do we do now?” 

“Elder Tycho said he recorded two magical anomolies, one in the Northern Mountains and the other in the Cursed Forest. I will be heading to the Cursed Forest myself tomorrow to investigate… I’m hoping I’ll be able to find some information.” 

“This is it, then?” Being the Chancellor, Vykus is well aware of the supposed “prophecies” foretelling the return of Lucius Aurelias -- but he’s never truly _believed_ any of them. 

Not until now, at least. 

“It is indeed, my old friend.” 

“I see… in that case, I’m coming with you.” 

“I expected you to say that.” Samuel says, smiling. 

“Of course you did.” Vykus responds, rolling his eyes. “When will we be leaving?” 

Samuel can tell the older man is scared, despite his attempts to seem otherwise. “Sunrise. I’ve made arrangements for a small troop of guards to accompany us…” He hesitates before continuing. “...along with Elder Tycho.” 

Vykus wrinkles his nose in distaste, but chooses not to argue the other man’s decision. After all, as much as he dislikes the man, the Elder was the current leading expert on _all_ Aurelias-centered prophecies… not just the official, Inquisition-approved ones. “I suppose we should head back up to the palace, then.” He says, turning and heading towards the door. After another concerned glance at the Staff, Samuel follows after. 

_Meanwhile, in an ancient castle in the Northern Mountains…_

Cassius Aurelias, last living relative of Lucius Aurelias and the current Emperor-King of the North, has lived his entire life knowing that someday, he might be forced to give up his throne. 

Some Kings ( _most_ kings) would consider this a tragedy. They would consider it an end to their happiness _and_ their livelihood… and when he was much younger, Cassius himself had once entertained those same naive beliefs. Then, he grew older... and as he did, he began to better see just how much the South had taken from his people. Their population, wealth, and borders had all shrunk since Lucius’s defeat at the hands of Gabrella Verdantis, leaving the Northern Empire no more than a shadow of it the great kingdom it once was -- but each and every Emperor-King that came after him all shared a secret, and that secret was that they knew that, one day, without a doubt, Lucius Aurelias would return for his throne. When he did, the South would regret _ever_ standing against him. 

Now, kneeling at the foot of the throne he himself had sat on only a day before, Cassius could not be more ecstatic. 

_”How long until the ritual is ready? I have lived in this hideous form for far too long.”_

“We are working on finding a suitable sacrifice.” 

_”And how long is that going to take, exactly?”_

“No more than a week, Dark One.” 

_”You have three days.”_

“Of course, Dark One.” 

He’d known Lucius might be… _different_ , when he came back. That was to be expected, after being banished to the Netherworld for over 500 years… but Cassius still hadn’t been prepared for the monstrous creature that had appeared in the temple almost two days ago, too-tall and too-thin and looking not the _least_ bit human. If anything, the former Emperor-King seemed more akin to -- well, a demon -- but Cassius is a warlock who has dealt with his fair share of full-blooded, never-even- _pretended_ -to-be-human demons, and therefore isn’t about to let a century’s worth of dark taint get in the way of his duties. 

_Besides… if I fail, he might just decide to use me as the sacrifice, instead._

_”Do not fail me.”_

“I will not, Dark One.” 

_”We shall see. Begone from my sight. I must rest.”_

“Of course, Dark One.” Cassius bows and backs out of the room. Lucius Aurelias, the Dark One, turns to the window and looks out over his pale excuse for a kingdom. It is time for the South to fall… and for him to become the all-powerful god he was always meant to be.


	8. Temple of Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one for you! hope you enjoy. <3

“I, uh… hate te be a bad host, but the sun’s startin’ to go down and I really think it’d be best if the four o’ ye went on your way now.” Brannon informs his strange, foreign guests, more stressed than he’s been since… well, since he’d left the Capitol over a decade ago. He misses it every day, the big city life; he used to love taking walks through the crowded streets, the smells of sweet perfumes, roasting meats, and fresh-baked bread wafting through the air as hundreds upon thousands of people went about their business. He’d lived his life surrounded by friends and family, and now? Now he spends it in isolation and regret.

_But that’s what you get for defying the gods..._

“What, so soon?” Izaya asks, smiling in a way that _would_ seem innocent if it had been someone else doing it. “I feel like we only just started to get to know each other.” 

“I, uh…” He searches for some sort of excuse, but his mind keeps coming up blank. “I’m sorry, truly I am.” 

_Please don’t ask me why…_

“I suppose it can’t be helped. Just point us to the closest inn, and we’ll be on our way.” 

“There isn’t one. Not for a hundred miles at least… this is kind of a “fend for yourself” type of territory.” 

“Then don’t you suppose sending us naive foreigners out into a cursed forest at night by ourselves might as well be sending us to our deaths?” 

Brannon doesn’t have an answer to that. 

“I…” 

“Listen, Brannon, my kind and gracious host...” Izaya starts, crossing his legs. “...we are tired, confused, and very, very lost. We have managed to survive so far, but food is scarce and we have no place to go. You have helped with the first issue so far, and for that, we are all very grateful -- and _because_ I am so grateful, I’m just going to cut to the chase. Are you kicking us out because you’re a werewolf and don’t want us to be around when you transform?” 

Brannon freezes, his eyes widening and his heart thumping in his chest. “I… uh…” 

_”Oi.”_ Shizuo narrows his eyes. “That’s enough, flea.” 

“I’m not talking to you, Shizu-chan.” 

“Yeah, well, _I’m_ talking to _you._ Leave him the fuck alone, or we’re going to have a problem.” 

“Don’t we always?” 

“One more word, flea. One more word, and I swear to god, I’m gonna--” 

_”Yes!_ Yes, I’m a werewolf!” Brannon interjects. “I was cursed by the gods to transform into a terrifying, ravenous beast during the night, which is why I live _here_ , in the Cursed Forest, by meself. I don’t want to hurt anymore people, and if you stay the night here--” 

“--we’ll most likely be fine. That _was_ you that, uh… _”met”_ Shizu-chan last night, yes?” 

Brannon gulps and nods. It was the first time he’d ever been overpowered like that -- he’d be lying if he said the blonde didn’t absolutely terrify him. 

“If you try to attack anyone, he can just… I don’t know, restrain you or something. By the way, what do you mean by, ‘cursed by the gods?’” 

The change in subject catches them all off-guard, Brannon most of all. “I… thought it was pretty self-explanatory? I pissed off the gods, so they decided I got te live the rest of me life as a blood-thirsty monster. What about that isn’t clear?” 

“It’s the god part, probably.” Shinra says. “Izaya’s an atheist.” 

“A… what?” 

“An atheist.” Izaya answers for his friend, sounding almost bored. “It means that I don’t believe in any god, or afterlife, or--” He’s interrupted by Brannon suddenly bursting into laughter. “--is something funny?” He asks, trying not to let his emotions show on his face. He does _not_ like being laughed at. 

He doesn’t like it at _all._

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean te lose me head like that, it’s just… ye can’t be serious, right?” Brannon has never met _anyone_ who didn’t believe in the gods -- to him, it’s as preposterous as not believing in the sky. “The gods are as real as you and I, lad, and it’s best you don’t forget it. They don’t take kindly te bein’ ignored.” 

“Whatever you say, Brannon.” Izaya replies dismissively, the look in his eyes one of amusement. 

“I’m just tryin’ te warn ye before ye get yerself into trouble… but if ye don’t wish to heed that warnin’, it’s yer funeral.” The werewolf shrugs and takes another swig of mead. Despite the situation, it’s actually nice to have company -- and not just from the supply caravan that comes up from the city once a month. “Anyway, my transformation’ll be startin’ soon… I think I’m goin’ te head out into the forest early though, I don’t like doin’ it in front of people, so, uh… I’ve only got the one bed, but I think I have some blankets down in the basement?” 

“How trusting you are, to leave us here by ourselves!” 

“Well, I don’t have any valuables that are worth takin’, so…” He shrugs. “Just don’t drink all me mead? It’s me last bottle and I don’t know when I’ll be able te get some more.” 

“A fair request that we will make sure to honor.” Izaya responds. After a few more moments of hesitation, Brannon turns and heads out the door. 

“So who gets the bed?” Shinra asks hopefully. 

“Maybe we should play Rock, Paper, Scissors for it?” Shizuo suggests. 

“I suppose there are worse ways.” Izaya agrees. Five rounds of the game later, he has successfully cheated his way into a win and heads down a short, narrow hallway to the only bedroom. The bed in it is small and simple, yet surprisingly comfortable... soon, the exhausted informant finds himself falling into a deep, deep sleep. 

When his eyes next open, however, he is once more very, very, confused, and very, very, lost. 

“What… the hell?” 

He’s in what looks to be an ornately decorated temple, with polished alabaster walls, arches, and columns all trimmed with gold and lavender detailing. It’s easily the most beautiful -- and the _largest_ \-- temple he’s ever seen, styled in a way that reminds him of if someone took the best parts of both Baroque and Buddhist architecture and combined them in a way that put each of them alone to shame. It’s not often he finds himself speechless, but this place… if gods existed, this is the kind of place he could see them being. 

“Well, your taste is good, at least… though we are going to have to do something about your lack of faith.” A voice from behind him says. He whips around, finding him face to face (or, perhaps more accurately, face to foot) with the largest, most beautiful _person_ (being?) he has ever seen. Even their voice is beautiful, clear and musical and somehow both firm and soothing at the same time. 

“Oh dear god.” He whispers, falling to his knees. 

“One of many.” The being responds, smiling. 

“I don’t… what are you… why am I… I don’t _understand.”_ He can feel his breathing becoming short, his heart pounding in his chest as he’s overcome by a wave of both awe and terror. 

_No. No, this is a dream. This isn’t real, it’s just a subconscious expression of my… my humiliation, or something, from being laughed at. Yes, that must be it. It’s all psychological._

“You can tell yourself that all you want, but it won’t change the truth.” The being says, their expression soft and almost a little pitying. 

He doesn’t like it. 

“Who are you?” He finally manages to say. 

“That depends on who you ask. Some have called me the Light-Giver, some have called me the God of Light -- or the Goddess of Light, the Mother of Light, the Father of Light --” 

“I get the picture.” 

The deity laughs, the kind of laugh that makes you feel warm and fuzzy and… well, _light._ “The point is, my child, that what you call me is up to you. What you can consider me, however, is your benefactor.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Your world has magic, but it is not the strongest I’ve ever seen -- I imagine most of the magical beings currently living in it are interlopers from other realms.” 

“So this _is_ another world, then? And we got here through that portal?” He still doesn’t think any of this is real, but that isn’t going to stop him from asking questions. 

“Yes. There are many worlds, just as there are many gods. In fact, there are many gods _because_ there are many worlds. These worlds, however, are not meant to interact; each exist within their own set of rules, and when those rules clash with the rules of a different world -- and they _will_ clash -- the results can be catastrophic. Should that lead to a domino effect… well. Even I would prefer not to plan for that possibility.” 

“If that’s your way of asking me to go back to my own world, I would _gladly_ do just that… you’ll just have to tell me how.” 

“I’m afraid that what I am asking from you is not so easy.” 

“Then what _are_ you asking from me?” 

“I’m asking you to be my Champion.” 

“I’m sorry, your _what?”_

They sigh. “The creature you ran from was once just a man. A man with powerful dark magic, yes -- but a man nonetheless. His name was Lucius Aurelias, and 576 years ago he was banished to a Nether Realm for trying his hand at world domination.” 

“Wait, how did he end up in _my_ world, then?” 

“Nether realms are essentially graveyards for entire universes -- sometimes a world has its own, sometimes it shares with others. It turns out that _our_ particular nether realm is also _your_ particular nether realm -- and because of that, Lucius was somehow able to open a portal to your world and escape into it.” 

“If you’re really a god, couldn’t you have foreseen that?” 

“My powers are confined to my own universe, I can’t affect others.” 

“So why me, then?” 

“I have run through every possible return scenario with every single living being in my universe uncountable times since the moment of Lucius’s banishment, and not a single one ever ends with anything less than complete and utter annihilation of both our worlds at _least.”_

“That’s… not at all reassuring.” 

“No, it isn’t. So when I felt the portal to your world open, I cast out my blessing in the hopes that someone might hear and heed its call.” 

Realization hits him. “The whispers!” 

“Yes. I wasn’t sure you would enter the portal… I realize you did so for your own survival rather than to heed my call, but the end effect is the same. You are my Champion.” 

“Those whispers made me feel like my head was going to explode, and you’re telling me that’s because of you?” 

“No, that is because of the fact that I am a deity of light, and those portals were made with dark magic. Going through those portals with my blessing gave you a sort of -- let’s say -- allergic reaction.” 

“What if it had killed me?!” 

“It was a risk I had to take. You’re my last hope.” 

“And what makes you so sure I can even do anything?!” 

“Nothing. You are not part of this world, and therefore I cannot see your future in it.” 

“So what, this is just a shot in the dark?” He asks incredulously. 

_This is ridiculous, this is ridiculous, this is ridiculous._

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.” 

“But _why me?”_

“I told you -- I called, and you answered. Perhaps you should ask _yourself_ why?” 

“Wait, what? What do you mean by that?” 

“Good night, my Champion. Give my regards to the King for me.” 

“King? What king? What are you… you…” Suddenly finding himself very, very sleepy, Izaya has already forgotten what he was going to say. 

“Rest well, child. You have a long day ahead of you.” 

Izaya’s eyes close once more, and the world goes black.


	9. Tongues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Sorry this took so long. If you’re following one of my other stories, The Stargate Project, you’d have seen my update about how with finals, depression, and the holidays, I haven’t really had a lot of time or energy to write. If not, then now you know why it’s been a bit since I’ve updated.
> 
> One other thing: I am probably going to go through and make some edits to earlier chapters of this. It won’t be anything too drastic, and if it is, I’ll let you know -- most of what I want to fix is typos I didn’t catch while editing, though I also noticed that I wasn’t keeping Brannon’s speaking habits consistent. He was made for this story specifically (all the OC’s you will meet were made for this story), so he’s still being fleshed out. Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and I hope you enjoy!

When Izaya wakes up the next morning, he feels more refreshed than he has in years. He can remember every vivid detail of his dream -- because that is, of course, what it is. A dream. Nothing more, nothing less. There are no giant androgynous gods in giant ornate temples telling him ( _him!_ of all people!) that he’s supposed to be their so-called ‘Champion of Light’... instead, all there is is the soft glow of forest sunlight streaming in through the window of the tiny room he’d stayed the night in.

_I really wish being stranded in the middle of a supposedly cursed forest was just a dream, too… I could really, really, really use a bath…_ Back home in Shinjuku, bathing was one of the few more private routines he actually had; he’d light a few candles, put on some instrumental music (usually jazz or classical, but he has been known to listen to Lo-Fi every now and then), and pour in some bubble bath, and boom -- instant relaxation. Unfortunately, he gets the feeling that indoor plumbing isn’t really a thing in this world yet. Sighing, he picks himself up out of bed and wanders back into the living room, where he finds Celty and Brannon sitting silently (and _incredibly_ awkwardly) around the kitchen table. When their host sees him, the look on his face gives Izaya the impression that he isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Standing up and walking over to him, Brannon leans in to whisper a question. 

“Yer friend there, she, uh… she mute?” 

“That’s one way to put it, yes.” Izaya responds, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

“Oh, good.” Brannon visibly relaxes. “I was worried she didn’t like me or somethin’.” 

“Don’t worry. I’m fairly certain the only person in here she doesn’t like is me.” Izaya pats him on the back and is about to ask about the possibility of breakfast when there’s a knock on the door. 

You’d be surprised as to just how much information it can give you, a knock. Izaya has heard many in his lifetime; whether it’s the timid tapping of a shy schoolgirl or the loud rapping of an impatient CEO, you can learn a lot if you know how to listen. This particular knock is loud and firm, but not violent or aggressive -- it’s the type of knock that either belongs to someone on a mission, someone of authority, or both. 

_Well, well, well, what new friends am I going to make today?_

“I’m not expectin’ company…” Brannon frowns, glancing at his visitors before walking over to the window and peering out through the curtains. Almost immediately, Izaya sees his eyes widen in disbelief -- before he can ask what’s wrong, Brannon has opened the door and bowed deeply in respect. “Y-yer Majesty! To what do I owe the honor?” He stutters, obviously nervous. 

_Your Majesty?_ The honorific grabs Izaya’s attention, the words of the dream-deity echoing in his mind. 

_’Good night, my Champion. Give my regards to the King for me.’_

“Good morning, Ser Brannon. It has been a while since we’ve last met, hasn’t it? Though I’m afraid I’m not here on a social call… may I come in?” A pleasant yet somber voice asks, prompting Brannon to immediately step aside. 

“I-I, uh, have some guests already, but p-please, make yourself at home, my King!” 

“Guests? And here I thought you were the lone wolf type.” Coming from anyone else, the comment might have seemed like an insult -- but from the handsome, kind-looking older man that enters the tiny cottage, it comes off more as affectionate teasing. 

_It’s just a coincidence that a King has shown up here... it has to be._ Izaya thinks to himself, still unable to get over his dream. 

“They’re not from around here -- were wanderin’ around outside without any protection or armor, didn’t even know where they were! That one over there convinced me to let ‘em stay the night -- he’s got a silver tongue, he does.” 

“You let them _stay the night?”_ Another voice sounds out, sounding almost offended. Brannon’s face turns sour the moment the moment he hears it. 

“Ah, Chancellor Vykus. Yer here, too.” 

“Trust me, werewolf, I’m just as pleased about it as you are.” 

_”Vykus.”_ The king warns. 

“I’m telling you, letting him wander around freely--” 

“Brannon moved here on his own initiative, Chancellor, just as he reported his lycanthropy upon acquiring it. He is a good man with no desire to cause harm, and has isolated himself for that very purpose. You wish me to punish him further, simply because of what _might_ happen?” 

“What good is self-imposed exile when he’s letting helpless travelers--” 

“Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t call ‘em helpless...” Brannon mutters, remembering how easily Shizuo had flung him into the sky. 

“While sleeping in the same house as a vicious, bloodthirsty monster? Please tell me you at least put some distance between you and them before you--” 

_”Vykus!”_ The king warns again, his tone more forceful this time. 

“--I’ll wait outside.” The Chancellor says coldly before turning and walking out of the house. The King is about to continue whatever he was saying when the door reopens and another, slightly younger man comes in, the sour look on his face mirroring the one Brannon had made only moments before. 

“That man -- one of these days, he’s going to run his mouth at the wrong mage.” He says. 

“Elder Tyko?” Confused, Brannon looks between the newcomer and the king. “I don’t understand… why is he here?” The Elder is one of the few, rare mages allowed to live outside of the Inquisition’s island fortress, but he’s still highly restricted -- the only reason why he was even given that permission was because King Samuel had convinced the High Inquisitor that he, being Gabrella Verdantis’s last living blood-descendant, needed a mage with expertise in prophecies and magical history to assist him in his duty to prepare for the Dark One’s return, and Tyko was the only one that fit the description _and_ could be trusted. He knows this because Chancellor Vykus, being the closed-minded skeptic that he is, had made a very public stink about it at the time. 

_Just like he had when His Majesty refused to hand me over to the High Inquisitor…_ Brannon thinks to himself. The Forest was (and still is) in Verdantis domain, so the Inquisition had been unable to do anything themselves without running the risk of starting a war with the Southern Kingdom. Luckily for him, they had decided against taking that route. 

“I… will explain that in a minute. First, care to introduce me to your guests?” Samuel flashes a friendly smile at Izaya and Celty. 

“Ah, um, yes. This is--” 

“Izaya.” The informant finishes for him, taking that as his cue to stand up and walk over to the three men. “Izaya Orihara. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Your Majesty.” He bows respectfully. 

_It wouldn’t do to get on the bad side of a a king, after all… at least, not yet._

“Ser Brannon here tells me that you’re not from around here. Tell me, from where _do_ you hail?” 

“A country called Japan. It’s… incredibly far away, you most likely haven’t heard of it.” 

“You are right, that is one I have not heard of. Elder, have you heard of Japan?” 

“Can’t say that I have...” 

“Hmm, how curious. What about you, Brannon? Have you heard of it?” 

“No, Yer Majesty.” 

“I imagine if I were to ask the Chancellor, he would say much the same.” Samuel turns back to Izaya. “Though I wonder… who taught you our language? For someone from such a far-off place that neither me nor my Elder have heard of it, you speak it quite fluently.” 

“Perhaps our languages are the same! Wouldn’t that be such a strange coincidence?” Izaya replies. When he feels a tap on his shoulder, he turns to find Celty standing there with her phone held so only he can see it. 

[We need to talk. In private.] 

“What, right now?” 

[Yes, please.] 

“I apologize, Your Majesty, but it seems my friend would like my assistance with something. Again, it truly was a pleasure to meet you.” He bows once more before gesturing for Celty to follow him to Brannon’s bedroom. 

“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you too, Izaya Orihara.” Samuel responds, amused. When the two of them have disappeared down the hall, he turns to Tyko and leans in close so that Brannon isn’t able to hear him whisper. “That was mage tongue, wasn’t it?” 

“Almost certainly, Sire.” Tyko whispers back. Samuel recognizes the gleam in the Elder’s eyes -- it’s the gleam he gets when he’s sensed a mystery. 

“What? What is it?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“I’m not entirely sure he’s aware that he’s using it. In fact, I’m not entirely sure he’s aware he’s using _any_ magic -- I checked his aura, and it looks exactly like that of an unawakened.” 

“I thought even the late bloomers were no older than sixteen -- and he looks eighteen, at least.” 

“My guess is early-twenties, but that’s besides the point. What shall we do?” 

“For now, let us simply do what we came here to do.” He focuses his attention back on Brannon and returns to his normal speaking volume. “I’m sorry for my rudeness. Now, about why I’m here…” 

Meanwhile, Izaya and Celty have reached Brannon’s bedroom. After closing the door, the former turns to face the latter. “Alright, Courier-san... just what’s so important that it couldn’t wait for a King?” 

[They’re not speaking Japanese.] 

“Of course not, I was joking. I assume something happened to us when we went through the portal… I’d suggest something having to do with our Wernicke’s area -- that’s the area of the brain involved in understanding language, in case you weren’t aware -- but considering _you_ don’t actually _have_ a brain, it’s more likely something magic-related.” 

[Izaya, I couldn’t understand Brannon at all until you woke up.] 

_Huh?_

“What do you mean, you couldn’t understand him? You understood him just fine last night.” 

[Yes, and when I woke up, I no longer could.] 

“What about Shinra and the beast, could they understand him? And what do you mean, when you woke up? I didn’t known you slept. Do you actually need to, or is it just something you do for fun?” 

_I will not punch him, I will not punch him, I will not punch him…_

[Shinra and Shizuo left to go look for food right before he got back.] 

“And let me guess, you stayed behind to make sure I didn’t do anything suspicious?” 

[Actually, I stayed behind because I wanted to talk to you about something else. Look, Izaya… I don’t care if you take me seriously or not, all I care about is finding out how to get home.] She can’t sense her head at all anymore, not even a little bit… and that makes her feel incredibly, incredibly uncomfortable. What makes her feel even _more_ uncomfortable, however, is the thought of her friends worrying about her. She has Shinra, thankfully -- she’s not sure what she’d do if she didn’t -- and Shizuo is here too, but… what about Anri? She’d grown rather fond of the girl, and the idea that she may never see her again… she may not have a physical, beating heart, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling a pain in her chest just thinking about it. [And I’m starting to get the feeling that you’re the key to that.] Something has been off about Izaya since they stepped through the portal -- no, since _before_ they stepped through the portal. How did he find the right alley so quickly? How did he know where the portal was going to be? Why could he see that terrifying demon creature, but Shinra and Shizuo couldn’t? 

_And **why** do I feel so itchy all of sudden?_ She wonders, scratching her arm. 

“Well, I assure you, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on either.” He responds. “But I _too_ would like to find a way home, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see if I can get any information out of His Majesty.” He exits the room, and Celty hesitates for a moment before following. 

_He’s hiding something… I don’t know what, but he is._ For now, though, she decides to drop the subject. He’s obviously not going to tell her anything yet, and besides… 

...it’s not every day you get to meet royalty.


	10. Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry it’s been a bit, life has been… hard. I actually ended up dropping out of my community college despite it being my last semester there, because my stress had impacted my mental health so heavily that I was getting closer and closer to a legitimate breakdown. In any case, I now have this chapter out for you. I’m… not particularly confident about it, so I hope you guys can still enjoy it. I apologize if it’s not that great. I would also like to warn you that there is some mentions of animal death in here, so that if that kind of thing bothers you, you have a heads up.

“Shizuo-kun, if you keep stomping around like that you’re going to scare all the animals off! And I’m not sure I trust the local flora -- our host _did_ say this was a cursed forest, after all!”

“And what, your fucking yapping ain’t gonna scare ‘em away?” Shizuo retorts. They’ve been searching for at least thirty minutes now, and they haven’t found a single thing that looks even the slightest bit edible. 

“Maybe we should just go back? Our host -- Brannon was his name, right? He had food. I’m sure if we ask nicely, he’d be willing to share.” 

His stomach growling, Shizuo sighs. He doesn’t want to rely too heavily on Brannon, but he’s just too damn hungry to argue. “Fine, yeah. Let’s head back.” 

Relieved, Shinra turns back to the path of destruction the two of them (well, mainly Shizuo) had left behind them -- but instead of finding broken branches and bent trees, he finds a forest just as thick and undisturbed as it had been before his friend had punched his way through it. “Uh-oh…” 

“Uh-oh? What’d’ya mean, ‘uh-oh’?” Shizuo asks. 

“The path you made is gone.” 

Sure enough, when he looks, he realizes Shinra is right. “Weird… guess I’ll just have to make it again.” He steps forward, once more punching his way through the trees. After a few minutes, he finds himself... 

...right back where he’d started. 

“What the shit?” 

“I repeat: cursed forest.” 

“Maybe I just took a wrong turn. Lemme try again.” 

He does. The result doesn’t change. 

“Welcome back!” 

“Shit! One more time.” 

He tries again. The result still doesn’t change. 

“Damn it!” He growls. 

“Look, Shizuo, I don’t think you’re going to be able to -- aaaaand he’s off again.” Shinra sighs, watching his friend go charging off once more only to appear back behind him a few seconds later. 

_”Damn it!”_

Frustrated, Shizuo tries again. 

_”DAMN IT!”_

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

He tries different starting points, different routes, even tries punching in different ways, yet he always ends up back with Shinra. Frustrated, he punches another, particularly large tree. It cracks in two, one half falling harmlessly to the side and the other narrowly missing Shinra. 

_”Hey!_ Watch it!” 

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?!” 

“Other than not almost crush our friends under giant trees?! I… honestly don’t know.” Shinra admits. He is actually trying very hard not to panic; the idea of starving to death with Shizuo in a cursed forest who-knows-how-many miles from home without being able to see the love of his life one last time is not particularly good for his nerves. 

“Maybe we can text Celty?” 

“Do _you_ have service? Because _I_ haven’t had it since we left Ikebukuro.” 

“Shit. Okay. I’ll, uh… try and climb a tree or something, see if I can see the cottage from up there. I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on moving anywhere.” 

Shizuo uses the skills he’s gained from years of chasing after that parkour-happy fleabag to get himself to the top of the highest tree he can find, surveying the scene below him. He can see the never-ending forest that Celty and Izaya had described, but he can also see something else -- a strange, thick, green fog blanketing the lower half of the woodlands that he hadn’t noticed while he was down there. He doesn’t, however, see the cottage. Confused and a little unnerved, he climbs back down to inform Shinra of what he’s discovered. 

“Hey, I didn’t see the cottage but I did see this weird green fo-- Shinra?” The other man is nowhere to be seen, a fact that does nothing to help his already incredibly bad mood. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” 

And that is when he hears something. 

It’s quiet at first, almost inaudible, but then it grows louder and he’s able to recognize it as the sound of an animal crying. After a few seconds of trying to track the sound, he realizes it’s coming from underneath one of the fallen tree-halves. He pushes the half out of the way easily, his stomach dropping when he sees that it had utterly demolished a small, underground den containing three small baby bears. Of the three, two of them had been crushed to death. The third had somehow managed to avoid the worst of it, but it was trapped underneath debris and was obviously very badly hurt. 

_Oh no, oh no no no…_ His hands shaking, Shizuo kneels down and carefully removes the debris, freeing the only surviving cub. It’s one thing to hunt a full-grown animal for food, but these… these were _babies._ Innocent, vulnerable, not-at- _all_ -deserving-to-be-crushed-to-death babies. 

And he’d killed them. 

His entire body is trembling at this point, his fists clenched and his teeth grit as he swallows back guilt-laced tears. “Damn it, damn it, damn it…” 

“Shizuo-kun?” 

He starts, whipping around to face the source of the voice. “Shit, Shinra!” He wipes his eyes. “Where the fuck did you go? I thought you said you didn’t plan on going anywhere!” 

“I... didn’t.” Shinra responds, frowning. He’s not lying; one minute he’d been standing there waiting for Shizuo to come back down, and the next he’s hearing him cursing less than twenty feet away. “I think the forest may be messing with our heads. What are you looking at?” 

“The consequences of my own actions, and I need your help before they get worse.” 

“My help? My help with what? Did you get yourself hurt again?” Shinra moves towards him, pausing when he notices the three cubs. “Oh. Ohhhhhhh. Shizuo-kun…” 

“One of them is still alive. You can… you can fix it, right? _Right?”_ He asks, panic causing his tone to come out a bit more aggressively than he’d intended. 

“I’m not a veterinarian--” 

“Damn it, Shinra!” 

“--but I’ll see what I can do!” Shinra hurriedly finishes. Shizuo immediately moves out of the way, allowing him space to assess the damage. It’s bad, but he thinks he might be able to at _least_ try and stabilize the poor thing. 

After relaying this to Shizuo, he gets to work. 

\------------- 

Celty looks out the window for what seems like the hundredth time, disappointed when she once more does _not_ see Shinra and Shizuo emerging from the forest. It’s been hours since they left, and that worries her -- Shizuo can take care of himself in a _physical_ fight, but who knows what kind of strange magic a cursed forest might be home to? 

_I should have gone with them. I should have waited to talk to Izaya, I should have--_

“Is everything alright, Miss… Celty, was it?” Samuel asks from his spot at Brannon’s table. “I’ve been informed you can’t talk, but I have writing utensils if that might help? I do also know a bit of sign language.” 

She hesitates before nodding and holding her hand out. Samuel immediately gestures for Tyko to provide her with the aforementioned writing utensils, which she gratefully takes and uses to write “thank you” with then continuing on to write down what’s on her mind. It’s strange how familiar it is to her, the feel of nib on parchment -- she’s been using keypads, pencils, and ball-points for so long that she can’t actually remember the last time she used a quill. It’s even possible she hasn’t used one since before she lost her head. 

_’My friends went out to find food, and they haven't come back yet.’_ She writes, before turning the paper to face the table. 

“Wait, what?” Brannon’s eyes widen. “I thought they jus’ hadn’ woken up yet! Yer Majesty, we need te--” 

“Go make sure your guests haven’t gotten lost in the most dangerous forest on the planet? Yes, I agree. Especially considering the fact that it’s fungus season...” Samuel shudders. 

“Shit, it is, isn’t it?” Brannon is now even more worried. “It’s been so long since I’ve had te worry about it, I didn’t even think te warn ‘em!” 

“Fungus season?” Izaya echoes, curious and a little concerned (though he would never admit that out loud.) While he would rejoice at the thought of never having to look at that stupid _beast’s_ face ever again... he would really, really, _really_ rather not lose Shinra. 

“There is a special kind of magical fungus that can only grow in dirt taken from the Cursed Forest.” Elder Tyko says. “It only grows during the transition from summer to fall, and it is both incredibly rare _and_ incredibly dangerous -- it feeds by releasing potent magical spores into the air that cause whatever poor creature that breathes them in to become… well, one way would be to say they become disoriented, but I feel like that’s a gross oversimplification. In any case, said creature inevitably gets lost, dies, and then gets absorbed by the fungus which lives on to do the same thing to some other poor unsuspecting creature. Fascinating, albeit terrifying. Luckily, I have a spell that will make us temporarily immune...” He’s already rummaging through a pouch attached to his belt. “Shouldn’t take me more than ten, fifteen minutes. Ser Brannon, may I borrow your fire?” 

The werewolf nods and goes to help the mage get set up. While he does that, Samuel clears his throat and turns back to the two foreigners. “I was going to ask you to tell me your story, but it doesn’t seem like we have the time for that. At the very least, would you be willing to answer me one question?” 

Celty nods, while Izaya shrugs and says, “That depends on what it is.” 

“Fair enough.” Samuel responds with a chuckle. “I will understand if you’d rather not answer, but -- you and your friends. Do you happen to be from another world?” 

“What? Another world? How ridiculous!” Izaya laughs as if that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Celty, however, has no desire to play games. She pulls the parchment back towards her. 

_’We are, actually. We came here through a portal a little over a day ago, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that we would very much like to find our way home. How did you know?’_

“That is a rather long story, which I will gladly tell you… _after_ we’ve guaranteed your friends’ safety.” Samuel informs her. He can tell that Izaya is not at all pleased with his acquaintance’s decision to tell the truth, but he’s glad she did -- he’s becoming more and more convinced that these strange visitors are related to the magical anomaly Tyko had sensed earlier, and the more information they’re willing to give him, the easier it will be to figure that out for sure. “Elder Tyko, are you almost finished?” 

“I am, in fact!” Tyko responds. He waits for Brannon to set a woven potholder onto the table before placing a steaming, liquid-filled pot on top of it. “It’d be best to wait for it to cool before drinking, though.” 

“Then I suppose it might be a good time to come up with a plan, yes?” Samuel replies, before turning to Celty. “Your friends, do you remember in which direction they left?” 

She nods and points towards the southeast. 

“Then we have a starting point! Excellent.” 

There is a few more minutes of discussion, and then it is interrupted by Tyko announcing that the potion is ready. He pours some into a mug that Brannon provides, then passes it to his king. “A few sips is all you’ll need.” He informs him. 

Samuel takes the suggested few sips, grimacing all the while. “Tastes like the tonic you gave me for that ear infection I had a few years ago.” He grumbles before handing it back. 

“There are a few of the same ingredients, so I’m not surprised.” Tyko responds, offering the potion to Brannon next, then Izaya (who makes a show of wiping off everyone’s germs before taking a few swigs from an untouched part of the rim), and then finally Celty. She stares at the mug in front of her, not entirely certain how to approach the situation. 

_What am I supposed to do with this? It’s not like I can actually drink it…_

“What’s wrong, Courier-san? Not thirsty?” Izaya asks “innocently.” If she could glare, she would be doing so. 

”Is something wrong, miss?” Tyko asks, looking at her curiously. 

_You know what? Fuck it._ She thinks to herself, before simply removing her helmet and setting it on the table.


	11. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I’m sorry I haven’t updated my other two fanfics… this one seems to be the only one I have the muse for lately. Maybe it’s because I’ve been playing a lot of D&D/Skyrim type fantasy games? In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Also: I realized that I was misspelling Tycho's name last chapter. I'll go back and fix it eventually, but for now, just know that it's pronounced Tyko, but is spelled Tycho. Hope that clears up any confusion, lol!

For a moment after Celty removes her helmet, there is only silence. She had figured that in a world with magic, werewolves, cursed forests, etc., a woman with no head wouldn’t be _that_ big of a deal -- though now, as she stands there waiting for a reaction, she’s suddenly wondering if maybe she was wrong. 

Then, the silence is broken… by Izaya, who gasps overdramatically and clutches a hand over his heart. “Oh dear, you’re headless? All this time, I never knew! How scary, scary!” 

_That’s it!_

Finally having had enough with the obnoxious brunette, Celty storms over to him and grabs him by the collar of his jacket, aiming a fist made of shadows directly at his face. [I swear, if you don’t stop acting like a little shit, I’m going to tie you up and hand you over to Shizuo on a silver platter!] 

“Didn’t you say I was the key to getting back home? If you let Shizuo kill me, you might end up stuck here forever. You don’t want to take that risk, do you?” He asks her, smiling smugly. 

Celty hesitates before withdrawing her shadows and taking a step back. She’d forgotten how good he was at using people’s words against them… besides, that weird itching had started up again as soon as she’d gotten close. 

_It’s not him making me itch, is it? And if it is, why? **How?**_

No matter the answer, there’s one thing she knows for certain; there is something very, very strange going on with Izaya. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt…” Samuel clears his throat, and both her and Izaya turn to look at the three locals. “But we should probably get going, yes?” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least slightly shocked at the sight of a headless woman, but he’s been a king for over a decade now, and part of being royalty is learning how to keep your expressions neutral. Tycho and Brannon, however, have had no such training. 

“Fascinating!” Tycho’s eyes are gleaming. “Tell me, do you have a head or have you always been headless? And if so, how do you see? Eat? Breathe? _Do_ you breathe? How--” 

_”Elder.”_ Samuel’s tone isn’t particularly aggressive, but it’s commanding enough for Tycho to immediately stop talking. “Please do not be rude to our guest. She was kind enough to show us her truth, and it wouldn’t do to make her uncomfortable simply because you’re curious. And you, Ser Brannon… it is just as impolite to gawk at her. How did you feel when people first learned of _your_ curse? Do you really want to be the cause of that feeling in someone else?” 

Both Tycho and Brannon look down sheepishly. Samuel turns back to Celty. “I’m sorry about that. They’re good people, just a little socially inept.” 

[It’s alright… I don’t mind. At least they didn’t scream.] She answers with her PDA instead of the quill and parchment, which takes Samuel aback slightly until he realizes that the little glowing box in front of him contains words on it. 

_I see. This must be what allows her to communicate with her friends. I admit, I am a bit curious about it… but now is neither the time nor the place._

“Shall we?” He gestures to the door, and Brannon immediately scrambles over to open it for him. Before Samuel exits, however, he pauses and turns to Celty. “I apologize, but would you be willing to put back on your helmet temporarily? The man that was inside earlier is my Chancellor, and he is… not so open-minded when it comes to the otherworldly. I also have a small group of soldiers with me, and I would prefer none of them jump to conclusions. I have had more than once incident where someone has attacked an innocent in the name of my protection or honor, and I would really like to not have to deal with that at the moment. I hope you understand.” 

Used to this kind of thing, Celty wordlessly puts back on her helmet. 

“Thank you.” Samuel smiles at her before exiting the cottage, the others trailing behind him with Izaya taking up the rear. 

“Ah, Your Majesty! Welcome back!” The aforementioned Chancellor exclaims when he sees his liege. “Did you learn anything useful?” 

“I might have, I’m unsure as of yet. But we’ll address that when I return.” 

“Return? I don’t understand, Sire. Return from where?” 

“It seems that a couple of Ser Brannon’s guests might be lost in the forest. We’re going to go find them.” 

“Wait, what? But Sire, that’s insane!” 

“People need my help. I am going to give it.” 

“But Sire--” 

“Enough, Vykus. My mind is made up. If I’m not back by sundown… you know what to do.” 

“Sire, please think this through! We don’t have time for deviations, and… Sire!” The King has not stopped moving, and neither has the three individuals following after him. “At least take the soldiers!” 

“The soldiers are not immune to the fungi, and neither are you. The four of us, however, currently are. You can consider them your own protectors for the moment.” He nods to his men. “Though if they would like to use this time to relax, I would allow that as well. I will see you soon, Chancellor Vykus.” 

“Your Majesty, this is reckless! Your Majesty -- Your Majesty!” But the King has gone, leaving him alone with a group of slightly confused and more-than-slightly restless soldiers -- but not before catching a glimpse of Brannon grinning and giving him the finger. 

“Ugh, I hate that damned beast!” Kicking a tree stump, he scowls and takes a seat on the stoop of the cottage. The worst part is, he knows that Brannon’s presence will probably make the King’s return more likely… he just doesn’t want to admit that any good could come from allowing an abomination like him to live. 

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing we can do but wait, is there?” He sighs, then clears his throat to address the small group of soldiers standing there awkwardly. “You heard the King, didn’t you? If I am in danger, protect me. If I am not… if I recall correctly, the wolf has a well in his backyard. It wouldn’t hurt to hydrate yourselves, maybe refill the water skeins if need be. Otherwise, you’re free to do as you will.” 

The soldiers salute before branching off, some heading to the backyard as suggested while a few others find a place to sit and chat. The only one who doesn’t is a tall, dark-skinned, muscular woman with short black dreadlocks wearing a set of captain’s armor. She sits next to Vykus and places her hand on his shoulder. “You know he’ll be back, Chancellor. He’s never failed before -- he has the blood of the Champion in him, after all.” 

“I know, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying. We may differ in opinion, but he’s the closest thing I have to a family.” 

“Trust in him, Chancellor. That’s all we can do.” 

“I suppose.” He sighs again. “Thank you, Brielle.” 

She smiles, pats him on the back, then stands. “I’m going to go make sure nobody’s fallen down the well. Let me know if you need anything, Chancellor.” She salutes, then heads around the side of the house towards the back. Vykus watches her go, then turns his gaze back in the direction his king had left in. 

“For all our sakes, I hope she’s right...” 

\------------- 

Shizuo paces back and forth, the last of his cigarettes held between his shaking fingers. It’s been a long time since he’s felt like this, guilty and scared and more than a little self-loathing -- he’s hurt a lot of people, but he’s never actually ended a life. Even if they were only animals, he can’t help but beat himself up over it -- in fact, maybe it’s _because_ they were only animals that it’s getting to him so badly. When he hurts a human being, it’s usually because they were asking for it. After all, most of the people he’s put in the hospital attacked him first (usually on that damn flea’s suggestion, but still… it’s their choice to mess with him, so they’re the ones that have to take responsibility.) The cubs, though… they were just minding their own business. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” Shinra says after what seems like hours of silence. “Where’s their mother? You’d think she’d be close by, but I haven’t seen or heard any sign of her.” He’d be worried, but there’s no doubt in his mind that Shizuo would be able to take a bear, even if that bear was an angry mother who just lost two of her babies. 

“...” 

“No comment? I suppose that’s fair. In any case…” He wipes his bloody hands off on his lab coat, wincing when he sees just how dirty they are. “I’ve done what I can, but there’s no guarantee the wounds won’t get infected. The forest isn’t the most ideal place to perform emergency medical care.” And the poor thing was practically half-dead to begin with, a fact he feels best to keep to himself. “I do need to know, though… what do you plan on doing with her?” 

“Her?” 

“The cub. It’s a girl… I think. I’m not exactly an expert in ursine genitalia.” 

“Oh…” 

“So what are you going to do with her?” Shinra asks again. “If we take her with us, Mama Bear will almost certainly come looking for her… but if we leave her here, it’s very likely that she will die.” 

“Well, obviously we’ll take her with us, then!” 

“Are you sure you can handle the responsibility?” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Shinra attempts to use his coat to wipe off his glasses, but that just makes the smudges on them worse. He sighs, feeling very, very tired. “Look, Shizuo-kun… you’re not exactly the most… _gentle_ person, and this is a living, breathing baby animal we’re talking about.” 

“You think I don’t fucking know that?!” He clenches his fists, frustration welling up inside him. “What other choice do I fucking have?” 

“Shizuo-kun, I -- wait, did you hear that?” It sounded like the rustle of leaves and branches, as if someone -- or some _-thing_ \-- is moving through the trees nearby. 

“Hear what?” 

“I think something’s out there.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “Maybe it’s Mama, maybe it’s something else. Either way, we should probably--” 

“Oi! Whoever or whatever the fuck is out there, how about you stop hiding and show yourself!” Shizuo shouts into the trees. 

“--keep quiet.” Shinra finishes, wondering why he even bothered. The noises are getting louder now, the rustling getting closer and closer and closer until the trees finally part to reveal -- a familiar and very, very, _very_ welcome (albeit not literal) face. 

“CELTY!” He launches himself at his lover, relieved tears starting to well up in his eyes. Instead of pushing him away like she normally does, Celty returns the embrace, just as relieved to see him as he is to see her. 

[I’m so glad I found you, when you didn’t come back I started to worry!] 

“Ah, Celty came to save me! My hero!” He squeezes her tighter, having no desire to let her go ever again. “I thought I would die out here!” 

[Well, you’re safe now…] The hug is starting to get uncomfortable. [So you can let go.] 

“But what if you’re simply an apparition, cruelly vanishing the moment my back is turned? How could I possibly I take that risk? No, I think I’m going to keep holding on just to be s-- ow ow ow ow ow!” A shadow has grabbed onto his ear, pulling him away from her hard enough that Shinra’s almost afraid it’ll come right off. 

[And to think I was worried about you!] 

“I’m sorry, I just really did think I was going to die! We tried to find our way back, but the forest started to look the same and we kept going in circles.” He rubs his ear. 

“It’s true. Kept ending up in the same place we’d left.” Shizuo says. “Thanks for coming to get us.” 

[It’s no problem! Come on, I’ll lead you to the others.] She holds out a dark, shadowy string for them to take.] 

“What’s this for?” Shizuo asks, confused. 

[It’s to keep us from getting separated, so don’t let go of it, okay?] 

“Ah, okay. Hey Celty, do you think you could make, like… I dunno, a blanket or towel or something with your shadow-stuff?” 

[Probably, why?] 

“Shizuo-kun found an injured bear cub. We don’t think it’ll survive on its own, and the mother isn’t around.” Shinra answers. 

That’s when she notices Shinra’s lab coat laying on the ground, as well as the small furry creature on top of it. [Oh no! What happened?] 

“Let’s discuss that later, shall we? I don’t want to stay here any longer than we already have.” 

Celty nods and uses her shadows to produce a towel-like blanket, which Shinra carefully wraps around the unconscious bear cub. When he’s satisfied that the baby is secure, he picks her up and holds her out to Shizuo. “Remember, she’s your responsibility.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Shizuo responds, hesitating before gingerly taking her and holding her in his arms. She’s so light, he can barely even feel her weight. 

[Come on. Let’s go.] 

Celty turns and starts leading them back towards where she’d left the others. She hadn’t been able to drink the potion, but it seems like the fungus doesn’t have any effect on her… something she is very, very grateful for. 

_Maybe it’s because I don’t have a nose to inhale with?_

Deciding it doesn’t really matter, she turns her attention back to the trail of black shadowy strings she’d left tied to a tree near the others. After following it for several minutes, the three of them come across a clearing occupied by two more familiar faces -- along with two more _un-_ familiar faces. 

“Oh, good! It was them, after all.” One of the newcomer’s says, in a voice rich, deep, and warm. It’s obvious from his clothing and armor that he’s someone important -- perhaps a noble of some kind. 

“Oh, thank the gods.” Brannon sighs, relieved that he hadn’t lost his first guests in a long time to this goddamn hell-forest. 

“Hello!” The other newcomer says cheerfully. This one is dressed in simple, light purple robes; they remind Shinra of something a wizard from a fantasy novel might wear. 

“Good to see you’re still alive, Shinra.” Izaya says, his nonchalant demeanor hiding the relief he feels at the sight of his friend’s face… but that relief is cut short the moment his eyes meet Shizuo’s, his expression turning sour. “Not you though, Shizu-chan. I would rather you have died.” 

“Not in the fucking mood, flea.” Shizuo growls. 

“So… who are your new friends?” Shinra asks, deciding to step in before things can escalate. 

The nobleman stands up from the log he’d been sitting on and walks over towards them, extending his hand. “My name is Samuel Verdantis. I am the King of Verdantia, which you are currently inside of. This man over here is Elder Tycho Zika. He is a scholar and magical expert.” 

“Wait, you’re a king? A real, live king?” Shizuo asks, incredulous. He’s never met royalty before. 

Samuel chuckles. “At least for now. Come, let’s leave this wretched forest. Thanks to Miss Sturleson, it shouldn’t be a difficult feat.” He gestures to the black shadowy string, which extends past them into the trees on the other side of the clearing. 

“Don’t have to fucking tell me twice.” Shizuo mumbles, adjusting his grip on the baby. 

“H-hey, uh… Ser Shizuo?” Brannon has noticed the bundle in the other man’s arms, and while he’s terrified of the other man, the scent of blood and fur has stolen his attention. “Is’at a bear cub ye got there?” 

“Yeah, it -- she -- uh, got hurt.” Shizuo tells him, too ashamed of his violent mistake to say anything more than that. 

“Where’s her mother?” Samuel asks. 

“No idea. Didn’t see or hear any sign of her, and she didn’t come runnin’ when her baby started crying, so... “ 

“So you didn’t want to leave her to die alone. A commendable deed.” Samuel informs him, his expression sympathetic. 

“Yeah…” 

“Do you know how she got hurt?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“Well?” 

“...” 

A gleeful grin spreads across Izaya’s lips. He’s never been good at reading the beast, but right now his emotions are written all over his stupid face. “Oh my, Shizu-chan… don’t tell me that it’s _your_ fault this poor, defenseless creature got injured?” 

“Orihara-kun, can we _please_ not do this right now?” Shinra pleads. “I’m hungry, and I’m tired, and I would like to leave.” 

“...Fine.” Izaya surrenders, but not before aiming a sneer in Shizuo’s direction. 

Violent, pulsing red threatening to cloud his vision, the only thing that keeps the blonde from losing it is the warmth of the innocent creature currently held in his arms.


	12. Trees, Trees, and More Trees

“O-Oi… I, uh, don’t want te make anyone nervous, but… doesn’ it seem like we’ve been walkin’ for quite a while now?”

“Considering my feet feel like they’re about to fall off, I’d have to say yes.” 

[I just don’t understand it. My shadows should be leading us in the direction we left from, so why haven’t we reached the cottage yet? We definitely should have by now!] 

“Well, this _is_ the Cursed Forest. Stranger things have happened here.” 

“We _will_ able to get out, though, right? Please tell me we’ll be able to get out… it feels like I haven’t eaten in _days._ ” 

Samuel frowns as he listens to his various travelling companions complain, his brain working to find a solution to the situation they’re currently in. Everyone is in a bad mood, their feet begging for rest while their stomachs beg for food; if they don't find their way out of the forest soon, things could get bad. “Elder… you don't happen to know any divination spells, do you?” 

Tycho thinks for a minute. “Maybe? I'll have to check my grimoire.” 

“Then could you do that for me, please? Blindly wandering around will get us nowhere, and this clearing we’ve found ourselves in might be a good spot to take a break.” 

“That sounds great, but what about the cub?” Shizuo asks. The baby bear is unconscious, though he can tell she’s still alive due to the sound of her labored breathing. “I dunno how much longer she has…” 

“Hold on, I think I might have some healing salve in my bag.” Tycho is already rummaging through it, pulling out a small vial filled with a jade green liquid. “Ah, here it is!” 

“Wait, you’ve had the ability to help her all this time and you didn’t say anything?!” Shizuo balls his fists and takes a step forward. 

“I didn’t remember I had it until now. You have no _idea_ how much is on my mind right now.” Tycho responds defensively. “Besides, do _you_ remember everything you bring with you? I highly doubt it.” 

A hand on his shoulder catches his attention, and he looks behind him to see Brannon standing there shaking his head. “Don’t. Don’t push ‘im. Trust me.” He warns. _He_ had been able to walk it off due to his curse, but the Elder looks like he wouldn’t be able to take a punch from a toddler. 

Thankfully, the worried look on Brannon’s face is enough to convince Tycho that it might be a good idea to listen -- anyone that can make a werewolf that nervous is someone who should be dealt with carefully. “I apologize for my rudeness… I’m more than a little stressed at the moment. Please accept my apology, as well as this salve.” He offers the vial to Shizuo, who takes it and inspects it curiously. “If you slather it onto her wounds, it should keep them from getting worse.” 

“That does mean she’ll have to have her bandages removed and her wounds cleaned again.” Shinra says. “Which probably wouldn’t be a bad idea, considering how dirty my lab coat was when I was stabilizing her earlier. Here, give her to me.” He holds out his arms, and Shizuo hesitates before carefully handing her over. 

“Thanks.” He mumbles. 

“Of course! Medicine is what I’m good at, after all. Celty, could you make me a fresh blanket to lay her down on? I don’t want her getting any dirtier than she already is.” Shinra goes off to take care of the cub’s injuries, leaving Shizuo to find something else to distract himself with. 

_Damn it, I really wish I hadn’t smoked my last cigarette…_

“Oi, do you guys have nicotine in this world?” 

“Not unless we call it something different.” Samuel responds. “What is it?” 

“It’s, uh…” It occurs to him that he doesn’t really know the answer to that question. “It’s something you smoke?” 

“Like a drug?” 

“What? No, it’s not a drug. It’s, uh… a plant, I think.” 

Izaya snorts. “It’s a plant _and_ a drug. Smoking too much of it can kill you, yet it’s addictive qualities makes it so people don’t care and smoke it anyway. I _wish_ it would kill Shizu-chan, though… I dream of the day I no longer have to look at his stupid face.” 

“The feeling’s mutual, flea.” Shizuo says, his eyes narrowing. Ten years he’s had to deal with this bastard’s bullshit, and now he has to spend entire _days_ with him? It would have been better for everyone if he’d just stayed asleep forever. 

“Bet you regret not killing me when you had the chance, don’t you?” 

“You have no fucking idea.” 

The two men glare at each other, neither of them wanting to be the first to break eye contact. Soon, however, both of their attention (along with everyone else’s) is diverted when Tycho loudly clears his throat. “So, I’ve found my grimoire, along with a decent divination spell… but it’s going to take at least at least thirty minutes to prepare.” 

“I’m sure we can find ways to entertain ourselves while we wait, Elder. In fact…” Samuel turns his attention to Celty. “Perhaps you would be willing to use this time to tell me your story? I understand if you may be hesitant, but I believe that your presence in this world might be related to the mission I am currently on, and I need more information before I decide what to do next.” 

[It’s alright, I don’t mind telling you.] Celty says. [I’m just not entirely sure what’s going on, either…] 

“Then hopefully we can figure it out together.” Samuel says, smiling reassuringly. “For now, how about you start by telling me about this portal you all came through? How did you happen across it?” 

[We were investigating a strange dream we’d all had when Izaya found it. We hadn’t planned on entering it, but then…] 

“But then what? Did something happen?” 

[Its creator showed up, and we had to run before it killed us.] She shudders when she remembers the intense aura of hatred and malice the creature had given off. [It was really scary!] 

“I can imagine.” Samuel says. 

_That creature… could it have been him?_

“What _I_ find interesting is that Shizuo-kun and I couldn’t see the creature at all until we went through the portal, but Orihara-kun could see it right off the bat.” Shinra chimes in, cleaning the blood from the cub’s wounds with an alcohol wipe. “In fact, Orihara-kun was the first to see it, if I’m remembering correctly.” 

“Is that so?” Samuel glances at Izaya. 

“It might be, it might not be.” Izaya replies. “Who knows?” 

[No, you definitely saw it first.] 

“You were also the one who found the portal.” Shinra adds, thinking back to the weird, almost trance-like expression Izaya’d had right beforehand. “How _did_ you find it, by the way? It almost seemed like you knew where it was.” 

Izaya shrugs. “It was a coincidence?” 

“Was it also a coincidence that you were the only one who had a bad reaction to going through it? You vomited after going through the first one, and straight up passed out while going through the second. Any way you look at it, it seems strange.” 

“I guess I just don’t take well to portals.” He says. “Maybe I’m allergic.” 

Tycho and Samuel exchange a glance. “This portal… what color was it?” Samuel asks. 

[Red. Blood-red. It was really creepy...] 

“And you said there was a second portal. Where was that?” 

“Some sort of ancient temple, I think.” Shinra answers. “It was hard to get a good look before it started collapsing in around us.” He finishes with the cleaning and moves on to administering the salve, the green liquid oozing onto the hand-towel Celty had provided him with. “That creature intended us to die there -- the only reason we didn’t is because the second portal opened up at the last minute.” 

“Interesting…” Samuel strokes his chin thoughtfully. “And you say Izaya passed out while this was happening?” 

“Yes. It looked like he was in incredible pain… he started screaming and everything, it was actually a little shocking.” 

“You know, I’m right here. I can speak for myself.” Izaya says, feeling more than a little irritated. 

[Then by all means, do so!] Celty wants to go home. She doesn’t like this forest, and as helpful as the locals have been, she can’t say she’s a fan of the situation, either. Izaya is not the type of person she wants to have to rely on, but what choice does she have? [Because if anyone would know what’s going on, it’s you!] 

He snorts. “I’m flattered by your confidence in me, but I’m afraid my information network doesn’t quite reach this far.” 

[That’s not what I mean, and you know it!] 

“Do I?” 

[Don’t act like you don’t remember our conversation this morning!] 

“Which one?” 

It’s times like these that Celty wishes she had a mouth to scream in frustration with. [The one where I told you I couldn’t understand a thing Brannon said until you woke up?] 

“I don’t see what that has to do with me.” 

[So what, you think it’s just a coincidence?] 

“Yep!” 

[You are so infuriating!] 

“Sire…” Tycho gives him a look. 

“I know.” Samuel responds. It’s obvious to him that Izaya _is_ , in fact, unaware that he’s using magic, and that is something that could easily become a very large problem in a very small amount of time. An unawakened mage is as _in_ danger as they _are_ a danger… especially when they themselves are unaware of their newfound power. “Izaya, would you walk with me?” 

“Wait, are you sure it’s a good idea to split the party?” Shinra asks. “You’re the king here, wouldn’t it be really bad if you were to get lost like we did?” 

“We won’t be going far, but it is smart to be cautious. Miss Celty, if you would be so willing?” 

It takes her a second to realize what he’s asking for. [Oh, yes! Sorry!] She produces a new thread of shadow from her hand and hands it to Samuel. 

“Thank you. Your assistance has been invaluable.” He smiles at her before holding the thread out to Izaya. 

“...” 

“Either you hold onto this, or I hold onto you. Your pick.” 

"It’s just so _itchy.”_ Izaya complains. “I think I might be allergic.” 

_I wonder… is her magic dark magic as well? It certainly seems as much..._ Samuel doesn't think he's ever seen a black so... well, _black._

“I apologize, but could you bear with it for just a while?” 

“Fine, fine.” Izaya sighs and takes the string, and both him and Samuel disappear into the woods. Celty watches them leave, feeling both concerned for their safety and confused about the fact that Izaya seems to be having the same reaction to her as she is to him. 

_What in the world is going on?_

Realizing she won’t get any answers from staring at a bunch of trees, Celty decides to go see if Shinra could use her help.


	13. A Discussion

“Alright, this looks like a decent enough spot.” Samuel brushes off a (conveniently) bench-sized log before gesturing to it. The two of them haven’t been walking for very long, but it would be a problem if they were to end up wandering too far and getting lost; because of that, Samuel figures it best to err on the side of caution. “We’re not too far from the others, but they shouldn’t be able to hear us from this distance.”

“Thanks, but I’d prefer to stand.” Izaya’s arms are crossed, the bored look on his face in stark contrast to his quickly beating heart. 

_What does he want from me? Have I crossed a line?_

Back in Ikebukuro, Izaya was in his element. Back in Ikebukuro, Izaya was in _control._ It didn’t matter who he offended; he had enough private information in his back pocket to blackmail most of the politicians in the area, and the ones he didn’t, he’s confident he would have been able to persuade some other way. This, however, is not Ikebukuro. This isn’t even his _universe._ He knows absolutely nothing about anything, which means that he’s forced to rely on the kindness of strangers (something he’s never had a lot of faith in); Samuel is probably his best bet at figuring out how to get back home, yet for some reason the thought of having a one-on-one conversation with him is making him more than a little nervous. 

_He seems friendly enough, but I can’t tell if that’s because he actually is or if it’s because he’s putting up a front..._

Izaya has no idea how to best approach this situation, only that it would probably be a good idea to keep his guard up. 

“Very well. If you are more comfortable standing, then stand you may. I, however, would like to rest my feet for a little while.” Samuel settles down on the log and stretches out his legs, a few of his joints popping as he does so. “Ahhh, yes. Much better.” 

“So, _Your Majesty_ \-- to what do I owe the honor? It’s not every day a common person like myself is granted a private audience with royalty.” 

“Common, are you?” Samuel raises his eyebrows, a look of amusement on his face. From what he’s gathered so far, this man is anything _but_ common. 

“Compared to an actual king, I would say so.” 

“Fair enough, I suppose.” 

“So… what is it that you want? Have I done something to offend you?” 

Samuel chuckles and shakes his head. “No, not at all. In fact, I think you’ll find that I am a rather difficult person to offend." 

“I’m sure I could find a way, given enough time.” He replies, only half-joking. 

“I believe you.” Samuel says. He’s starting to get the impression that the other man’s prickly demeanor might be more of a defense mechanism than anything else, meant to keep anything and everyone at arm’s distance… but he hasn’t quite known him long enough to be certain. 

_But that’s not what’s important at the moment, is it?_

“Tell me, Izaya -- what is magic like in your world?” 

“Weak enough that believing in it at all is generally seen as childish or delusional.” Izaya replies, leaning back against a tree. “I think it might have been stronger at one point, but it faded when people stopped believing in it.” 

“I see. How interesting.” Samuel is very curious to learn more about the visitors’ world, but right now that will have to wait. “And you yourself -- you’ve never exhibited any magical talent before?” 

“Nope!” 

“Interesting...” If Izaya really is an unawakened mage, then perhaps it was his own world’s magical deficiency that kept his powers from manifesting; if that’s the case, then it’s possible that exposure to _this_ world’s magic might have been enough to kickstart it. He makes a mental note to talk to Tycho about it later. “Tell me -- how would you react if, one day, you discovered you actually _did_ have magic?” 

“I suppose I would try to figure out where it came from, how to use it, and what it meant for the future.” 

“A wise course of action… but I can’t help but wonder if you would actually keep to it, were the situation to arise.” A small flask is pulled from one of Samuel’s pockets, and he takes a sip before offering it to Izaya. “Brandy?” 

“...” Izaya has never really been big on drinking; sure, he might have a beer or two when relaxing at home, but he rarely drinks hard liquor and he almost _never_ drinks in public -- the risk of being caught off-guard by someone with a bone to pick is just too high for him to be willing to chance it. Still… the current predicament he’s found himself in has him pretty stressed, and none of his usual coping mechanisms are available. “...Sure. Sure, why not?” He accepts the offered flask, giving the liquid inside a quick sniff before bringing it to his lips and taking a modest sip. The taste is sweet and oaky, and while it doesn’t burn going down, it does leave him with a feeling of warmth in his chest. “Not bad.” He remarks, handing the flask back. 

“It isn’t, is it? I’ve tried other brews, but this one is my favorite.” Samuel has one last swallow before putting the flask away and turning his attention back to Izaya, studying him for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I feel as if we’ve wasted more than enough time here, so I’m just going to get right to the point. Izaya, I have reason to believe that you _are_ , in fact, using magic. You may not be doing it consciously -- but you _are_ doing it.” 

Izaya _wants_ to laugh. He _wants_ to say that Samuel must be joking, that there’s no way he’s using magic and that it’s ridiculous just to entertain the idea of it -- but way, way, way down deep inside, there’s a tiny part of him that can’t help but ask: _but what if it’s true?_ “And may I ask how, exactly, you’ve managed to come to this conclusion?” 

“Miss Celty mentioned that she had been unable to understand Ser Brannon until you awoke. Since you first introduced yourself to us, Elder Tycho and I have had the suspicion that you’ve been using what we call ‘Mage Tongue’ -- I’m not entirely certain how it works on a detailed level, but the end result is that you’re able to communicate with someone even if you don’t share the same language.” 

“If I was using this “Mage Tongue”, wouldn’t I notice?” It doesn’t _feel_ like he’s using magic -- granted, he doesn’t actually know what using magic feels like, but he imagines it at least feels like _something._

“Would you allow yourself to?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that it’s easy not to see something when you’re purposefully averting your gaze. Denial can affect the best of us.” 

Izaya scoffs. “You think I’m in _denial?”_

“I do, yes.” Samuel sits up a little straighter, his gaze never once leaving Izaya’s face. “It’s understandable… you’re in a foreign world, with foreign rules and foreign dangers. You have enough to worry about as it is -- why would you want to add even more?” 

“...” 

“It’s alright to admit that you’re afraid, Izaya. No one will think less of you.” 

“I’m _not_ afraid.” He says, despite the fact that he very much _is._

“No?” Samuel quirks an eyebrow. 

“No.” 

“And would you admit it if you were?” 

“...” 

“Elder Tycho looked at your aura earlier. According to him, it looks exactly like that of an Unawakened. Do you believe that to be a coincidence as well?” 

“...” Izaya frowns. He is really starting to dislike this man. 

“Listen, Izaya…” Samuel leans forward. “You can say that you’re not a mage all you want, but the fact remains that your aura implies otherwise. You are very, very lucky that that portal didn’t take you into Inquisition territory -- had they been the ones to discover you, you’d have been either killed or imprisoned by now.” 

“Well, that’s not particularly inspiring...” 

“The Inquisition is… radical, to say the least. They were formed almost six-hundred years ago, after an incredibly powerful sorcerer attempted to use dark magic to impose his will upon the world. That sorcerer was banished in the end, but the damage had already been done -- ever since then, people have viewed magic-users with suspicion and prejudice.” It is something that Samuel has spent much of his royal career attempting to change, having no desire to see any more innocent people get hurt due to circumstances out of their control. 

“I… see.” Izaya says, his frown deepening. While this so-called Inquisition does sound like it could become a problem, he is currently more concerned with the reason stated for its forming. 

_A powerful sorcerer, banished between 500 and 600 years ago, after an attempt at world domination…_

It sounds a bit too similar to what the deity in his dream had told him, and that makes him _more_ than a little uncomfortable . 

“I understand if you’re confused.” Samuel says, folding his hands in his lap. “This world is new to you -- it would be foolish to expect you to adjust so quickly.” 

“...” 

“Acknowledging that you have access to magic is never easy. I’m not expecting you to accept it right away.” 

"I am _not_ a mage!" 

“Are you absolutely certain?” 

“Of course I am!” 

Samuel doesn’t respond right away. He’s starting to get the impression that Izaya is far more involved in everything that’s going on than he might have originally thought; though just how _much_ he’s involved, however, he has no idea. “Do you really believe that?” 

“I see no reason to believe otherwise.” 

“Really? Nothing I’ve said to you has had any affect at all?” 

“Should it have?” 

Samuel wants to respond with an “of course it should!”, but he’s starting to realize that these newcomers are far more stubborn than even he himself is. “You jest, but you have no idea just how much is at stake here.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Izaya states flatly. While this morning he might have been convinced that his dream was just that, after everything he’s learned since then, he’s no longer quite so certain. 

“Oh?” Samuel raises his eyebrows. “Are you implying that you know more then you’ve let on?” 

“...Possibly.” 

“Possibly?” 

“Possibly.” 

_Should I tell him? Should I **trust** him?_

Samuel lets out a heavy sigh. He would not consider himself a particularly impatient individual, but he’d be lying if he said that Izaya’s flippant behavior isn’t at least a _wee_ bit frustrating. “That powerful sorcerer I mentioned earlier? The one that attempted to take over this world? There is a _very_ good chance that he’s the creature you were running from when you entered that portal. If that’s the case, then you and your friends -- and potentially your entire _world_ \-- are in grave danger, and it is _my_ duty to stop it. If you know anything, anything at all, I need you to _tell_ me.” 

Izaya contemplates lying. He contemplates saying that he has no idea what Samuel is talking about, that none of this is his business and he would very much like to keep it that way -- but in the end, he realizes that he doesn’t really have much of a choice. 

_Not if I ever want to find my way home, at least…_

“...Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“Fine.” Izaya repeats. Running his fingers through his hair, he lets out a heavy sigh. “I had a dream last night…” 

_I really hope I don’t end up regretting this..._

Taking a seat next to the older man, Izaya begins to tell him what knows.


End file.
